Eagle and the Hawke
by FlowerCrazy
Summary: The team works to get Airwolf back into the air as Red struggles with moving and getting established with the Bone Yard in Reno. But ones past always has a way of catching up to them.
1. Chapter 1

_**Thank you to everyone who has continued to read this series. I hope you enjoy it but will apologize if it takes awhile to finish and publish each chapter. Your patience is greatly appreciated and I hope that it's worth the wait. Reviews are always welcome and loved.**_

 ** _Thank you to Nighshae for helping me by being my inspiration, my beta and being my support through all of this so far. Thank you thank you thank you!_**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

March 5, 2012

Guardian Angel's Headquarters

Outskirts of Reno, Nevada

Lydia snarled something under her breath as she made her way down to the lab. Even with all of her training and composure, what she'd just received from one of their informants at The Firm made her blood run cold. She knew that Michael needed to review the data and videos that had been sent but she wasn't sure what his reaction would be. The information was just over three years old. Three years and four months to be exact but it was still something that had been inaccessible to their informants until now. Only luck allowed their agent to stumble upon it, making her wonder what other secrets were hidden within The Firm that might be vital intel they could use to keep one step ahead of Zeus.

The elevator doors opened, revealing a plain white hallway that led left to the labs or right towards the rec room. She stepped out and took a moment to compose herself. She couldn't go in looking like she was ready to tear something apart. If Red saw her like this, she might pick up on something being wrong. So much had happened since the December fire at the Stars and Stripes hanger that it was a miracle Red was able to get away to go through her physical assessment.

Every one of the Guardian Angels employees, from pilots to secretarial staff, had to go through an assessment once a year. Sam had already done his a month ago and passed with flying colors. Mike's assessment wasn't until September and his last one had him all in acceptable margins. Red, however, was still an unknown.

As she turned to the left, moving towards the labs, her mind flashed on seeing the woman's body bare of anything but her underwear. Yesterday, Lydia had left a flash drive in her personal locker and upon entering the locker room to retrieve it, found Red partially dressed after her shower. Red had been poked and prodded that morning for her medical exam, including x-rays and blood work. She had spent the rest of the day up to her armpits inside the engine of Airwolf, learning more in-depth detail of the specialized system mechanics. Lydia had caught herself staring before she quickly apologized and left. She still couldn't get the image of how scarred up Red's body was out of her mind.

Today was the physical assessment. They would put Red through the paces of varying exercises from walking, jogging, running and sprinting before testing her on weights to see how much she could lift with arms, legs, back and so forth. They would be testing how well her body functioned under stress with oxygen use and heart rate, plus her recovery time afterwards. She'd be hooked up to all sorts of sensors, an oxygen mask and wires. Lydia knew how uncomfortable it was since she too went through it once a year. They had to know what kind of condition Red was in and how well her body functioned overall before sending her out in the field. Tomorrow would be the final round of testing. It would include an IQ test, psychological evaluation, knowledge based exams and ending with firearm proficiency and accuracy.

She came to a non-descript door with a card scanner and slid her security badge through it. The door made a slight clicking noise as the lock disengaged and she pushed it open. She entered a room that was divided into two sections by a Plexiglas window. On the side nearest to her, the entire area was filled with computers and monitors. The other side of the window held the exercise and testing equipment.

Red was currently on the treadmill at a full out run. The rapid 'thump thump thump thump' of her feet hitting the belt surface told Lydia that Red was currently at an impressive pace. She was dressed in a pair of black runner leggings and a gray sports bra that extended down to her mid-drift. Her hair was pulled back into a braid that hung down past her shoulders, swinging from side to side as she ran. Her body was covered in a light sheen of sweat and she reached up to wipe the sweat off her forehead without faltering. An MP3 player was strapped to her upper arm, the wire for the earbuds she wore swinging in time with her pace. The rest of her was covered with sensors and her face was mostly obscured with a mask that supplied and tested her oxygen usage.

Michael sat towards the back of the observation room, keeping half his attention on the monitors in front of the techs and half his attention on Red. He looked up as Lydia approached then raised an eyebrow in question. She knew he could read her, no matter how neutral she schooled her features.

She came to stand behind him for a moment, her arms crossed in a relaxed pose as she watched the other woman run. "How long has she been at this pace?" she asked quietly.

Michael looked at the clock then back at the monitors, "Almost twenty minutes. She's starting to tire."

Lydia nodded a little. Twenty minutes at this pace wasn't too bad. She'd heard that some of their staff could stay at this pace for over an hour. She, personally, couldn't last more than fifteen minutes. She was a better jogger than a runner. She watched a little longer, seeing the signs that Red was beginning to flag then looked down at Michael. "We received some intel a little while ago. I think this is something you should review in private as soon as possible."

Michael looked back up at her, "Oh?"

Lydia gave him a steady gaze then pursed her lips, her eyes hardening a little with anger, showing him the extent how much this intel disturbed her. They had worked together for so long that he was able to read that expression and know that whatever it was, it wasn't good.

He gave a nod and rose out of his chair, supporting his weight on his cane a little. "I'll leave her in your capable hands," he called out to the techs. "And for heaven's sake, make sure she eats something for lunch."

Lydia's expression shifted, softening. Michael knew Red was easily distracted when it came to Airwolf and the few times she had been here in the past two months, she'd skipped several meals. She was as bad, if not worse than Michael when it came to being immersed in the tech and mechanics of that black battleship with rotors sitting in the repair bay.

With a final look towards the other woman, she turned and followed Michael back to his office.

* * *

Michael sat at his desk and looked over the information in the file Lydia had constructed as the video played, the volume lowered to almost nothing. The tension around his good eye was tight, his mouth pressed into a firm, hard line. His eye flicked up to the scene in front of him. His jaw tightened and he finally looked at Lydia.

"Turn it off," he growled.

Lydia raised a remote control and pushed the off button. She set the remote down and walked over to Michael's desk. Remaining silent at the moment was the best course of action until Michael was ready to comment on it. She didn't have to wait long.

"Where was this information being kept? And why has it surfaced now after all this time?" he asked, suspicious of its sudden appearance.

She shrugged, moving to sit in front of his desk. "One theory is that it was kept as a hard file, in Zeus' personal safe. It's the only place in that building that our people don't have access to. As for why, I can only guess that he brought it out to review because they could be considering another round of interrogation." These were just theories but there was no other sensible reason.

Michael flipped the thick file shut and slammed it on the desk. "I don't like it."

A large color photo slid partway out of the folder when Michael slammed it down. It wasn't hard to imagine what the rest of the picture must look like. The mangled form of a woman was being pulled from the twisted wreck of what was once an experimental Air Force jet. The photo was taken when she was finally pulled free of the wreck and her ejection seat was being hauled out with her still strapped to it. Most likely, it had been done that way to help support her broken body until the emergency workers could get her transferred to a backboard without causing further injury.

Major Cheyenne McPhearson was hardly recognizable as a human in several of those photos. Bones protruded from several limbs, twisted and bloody. It was a miracle that she survived and currently running on a treadmill in the lower levels. At first glance from the photos of the crash, one would think she'd never walk again, much less run.

There were a number of photos of the progress from the freshly crashed jet, still on fire to the woman being loaded into an ambulance after she'd been removed from the seat. The file was mostly made up of her medical file from before the crash until she was finally released from the Edwards Base hospital over seven months later. They already had most of that information but this file included pictures and information that was deleted from the other file such as the results of her bloodwork after she had arrived at the hospital. Those results showed she'd been drugged somehow between her first fight that morning and the fateful test flight that afternoon.

Michael stared at the blank screen, his eyes distant and dark. What he had just witnessed on the video would make some of the most hardened spies jittery, including him. There were suspicions that she had been interrogated by The Firm, but there was no concrete evidence, until now. He'd just watched over half an hour of Red being interrogated, the tactics used were devious and sinister. No water boarding was needed, just the application of a concoction of drugs to cause psychosis and paranoia. They had worked on her for over a day before she began to crack under the pressure. They had been trying to figure out what scared her the most so it could be used to manipulate and control her at some point in the future. In the end, they found it.

Red had taphophobia, the fear of being buried alive and they had done just that to her as part of her interrogation. Michael had had to turn down the volume on the video when they had started to bury the box they'd shoved her in. She had been screaming in fear, the drugs in her system heightening the experience tenfold.

Apparently once they were sure she was telling the truth about not having any knowledge of Airwolf they had dosed her up with an anti-psychotic medication, mixed in with something that would help block her memories, forgetting the experience even temporarily. They had hypnotized her, helping to repress her fears and the trauma of what she had previously experienced at their hands. She'd been dumped back in her room to sleep off the effects of the drugs. Two days later, the jet crashed under mysterious conditions.

Michael rubbed his good eye from under his glasses. "Do we know if she remembers any of this? Has she said anything to indicate she's aware of what happened?"

Lydia shook her head. "I don't know. She's mentioned a thing or two about suffering at the hands of The Firm but that could mean anything from losing her family to her business constantly being monitored."

He was silent for a minute as he thought. Finally, he asked "Where's Sam?"

Pulling out her PDA, she flipped through a few screens before speaking up. "He's currently in the simulator with Mike."

Michael nodded, "Could you get them both up here? I need to ask Sam if Red has said anything to him about remembering what happened to her before the crash. Mike should know about this as well. I'm not taking any chances this close to having The Lady ready to fly."

Lydia frowned a little then nodded. She moved off towards her desk, picking up the phone to call down to the lab that held the simulator.

* * *

Sam sat in a chair next to Mike, both of them staring at Michael. Sam's face was drained of color while Mike looked like he might be violently sick at any moment.

"Jesus," Sam whispered under his breath.

Michael had shown them only a few minutes of Red's interrogation after revealing some of the things that had been in the file on his desk. Sam's hands trembled. He'd known it had been bad, but his mind could never conjure up details, even after seeing the scars that crisscrossed her body.

Michael watched Sam for a moment then exhaled very slowly. "I didn't show this to upset you. I knew it would but that wasn't my intent. I wanted to show you how low The Firm will stoop to find out information on Airwolf." He grew quiet for a moment and when no one spoke, he continued. "Sam, has Red ever shown any symptoms of PTSD or extreme nightmares? Has she said anything about possibly remembering what happened to her before the crash?"

Mike shifted uneasily in his chair, having pulled Red's medical file and the subsequent pictures into his lap. He opened it so that the cover of the folder obscured anything he looked at, shielding Sam from the worst. Mike still had holes in the information he knew about Red's crash and he wanted to see if this file differed from his.

Sam looked down at his lap, then up at the blank screen that had just showed him the most frightening thing he'd ever witnessed, short of his mother's execution. Finally he looked back at Michael. "She's knows what they did to her. She remembers."

Mike's head jerked up, turning to look at Sam, his mouth hanging slightly open. Michael's eye widened and the corner of his bad eye twitched.

Sam took a moment to collect his thoughts and then told Michael and his son about the nightmares that had started just after Red had returned to the cabin from the hospital. He described how he found her thrashing around in bed, yelling at someone unseen. He saw Michael's eye soften a little when he described how she'd finally allowed him to sleep next to her, finding that it helped her rest without having nightmares.

Finally, he described the final incident that shocked her awake enough for her to remember that they weren't nightmares, but memories.

Mike blinked in surprise, "So let me get this straight, you dumped her in a barrel full of cold rainwater to wake her up?"

Sam blushed, "It's all I could think of since she was fighting me. I didn't want to slap her for fear it might make things worse."

Michael simply stared at Sam, the look on his face a mix of concern and mirth.

"It did the trick and woke her up so suddenly that she remembered some of her nightmare and realized they weren't dreams but memories. It took a few days but she managed to remember most of what had been done to her. She kept a journal of everything but after a while she stopped letting me read it. I'm assuming it's because she remembered when they finally broke her." Sam seemed to whisper those last few words, the color draining again from his face.

Mike was silent next to him having found what he was looking for and closed the file. "I can't even imagine what she went through. I have no way of putting myself in her shoes. Does she still have nightmares?" he asked quietly.

Sam nodded, though a bit hesitantly, "Only when she's extremely stressed or worked up over something. The fire at the hanger caused her to have a few rough patches, nothing as extreme as when I shocked her awake but there are times when she's extremely restless. She ends up looking strung out and isn't someone you want to be around until she's at least had coffee."

Michael took all of this in. "At least she remembers. That's the important part. I think I would be very concerned if she hadn't. That kind of psychic trauma, if repressed or buried, can cause major psychological issues later in life. They've seen it quite often with Vietnam Vets or those who were POW's."

The office grew quiet for a few minutes as everyone thought over the ramifications of what had been discussed. Finally Sam spoke up.

"Are you going to show any of this to her?" he asked cautiously.

Michael looked at him steadily for a moment and then sighed. "I don't think so. I think that her remembering it is enough. She doesn't need to revisit it in living color. As for her medical file, I know for certain she's got a copy of the one from the hospital. This one has additional information that isn't going to help any. As for the pictures of the wreck and her rescue, no. I know that to this day, seeing pictures of the results of what Airwolf did to the RedStar building and to those around me at Moffats hands did me more harm than good. If I can keep that from her, I will."

With that, Michael stood up and walked to the window. "Sam, I took you in as a confidante with this. I know this puts a burden on you but I needed to know the information you've supplied me. I had to figure out if I needed to change things up a little with Red's training and evaluations. As it stands, I'm not going to alter anything. She knows what happened with The Firm, she knows the extent of her injuries. It's in the past and I want her focusing on the future."

Sam contemplated things for a moment then spoke. "I appreciate you showing me these things. Granted, I could have gone the rest of my life without seeing or hearing any of that but now I have a better understanding of what happened. It doesn't change the way I feel about her. She's one of the strongest women I know."

Michael turned to look at Sam and smiled warmly. "Good. I need to speak with Mike for a minute and then I'll send him back down to the simulator in a few minutes."

Sam knew a dismissal when he heard one and nodded, leaving the office and closing the door behind him.

Mike was quiet for a moment then spoke up, "Is there a reason this surfaced now after all this time?"

Michael looked out the window again, the sun waning onto late afternoon. "I'm not sure what to make of it. Either Zeus is testing to see if someone at Knights Bridge is a mole and try to catch them in the act or he's getting sloppy and they're planning something that involves Red."

Mike stood and put the file down on his father's desk. "So long as our 'moles' were very cautious when handling this information, we should be safe. As for the latter, we just need to make sure we're covering her ass as well as ours by keeping things sealed tight with her business and her employees."

His father turned back to the window, clasping is hands behind his back as he looked at the snow covered mountains in the distance. "Indeed."

* * *

Red's muscles trembled with fatigue as sweat dried on her skin, making her feel slightly itchy. She sat in the locker room, her head hanging a little as her arms rested on her knees, hands hanging limp between them. Her whole body ached. Sure, she ran regularly but she could slow down or speed up as she needed. This had been a treadmill that had one speed at a time. The weights were a little more difficult. When she lifted things around the hangers it was usually only once or twice, not multiple repetitions and sets.

She hadn't worked out like that since she was in the military. She closed her eyes for a moment. Was she getting soft? Or was she just getting old? She didn't like to think that her conditioning was lacking due to the crash but if she was truly honest with herself, it was. A human body was put together from the first cells of life to work in synch with all the moving parts and material used to hold it all together and in one place. When something disrupted the inner workings of a body, no matter how good modern medicine was it was never truly up to the task of putting a body completely back together again as it was before it 'broke'.

And she had been broke in more places than was healthy. As her mind wandered around in circles, it landed on Michael. Would she someday be in the sort of shape that required her to use a cane to get around? There were days her body ached with the cold and on those days all she craved was a long soak in a tub of hot water and then a soft bed with lots of warm blankets. She gave a little groan. That thought wasn't half bad and it made her almost ache with longing.

She still had one more day of testing to go through. Tomorrows tests were more mental and memory than anything. She had been told repeatedly that every single one of their employees went through the same physical and mental assessment once a year and she would be no different. However, tomorrow afternoon after her tests she was slated for some high-G's testing to see how her body would react going Mach 1, possibly Mach 2. She hadn't had that much strain put on her body since the crash.

What she really wanted to do was to sit in the simulator and begin practicing with Airwolf's system to see how far she could push it. It's what she was good at. She needed to figure out if she could break the system before it ever went into the air. She smirked at that as she hefted herself up off the bench and shuffled towards her assigned locker, pulling out a fresh towel and her shower kit. Michael would have a field day if she broke the simulator and that's just what she intended to try and do. He was always going on about how her father could truly make Airwolf do the impossible but he hadn't ever seen her fly in any way other than a normal jaunt from the cabin to the warehouse. He'd never seen her fighter pilot skills at work. It would be entertaining.

A long hot shower and a meal of hot soup with fresh baked bread seemed to do wonders for Red in making her feel somewhat human again. Sitting at a desk in the furnished house she and Sam were currently renting, she reviewed several emails she'd received during the day, most from Rachelle about business matters. Looking up from her work, she stared out the window into the dark, watching the sparkling lights of downtown Reno in the distance. In all her life, she never thought she'd be living here. She propped her chin up in her hand, elbow planted in a stack of paperwork as she watched planes land and take off from the Reno/Tahoe International Airport a few miles away.

Moving the Bone Yard operations to Reno was taking some effort. She had spent several days at the Stead Airport on the outskirts of Reno, previously known as the Stead Air Force Base, trying to negotiate the rental of one of the larger hangers. Everything was now completed as far as the contract paperwork but she couldn't start moving equipment into the hanger until the first of April. Between now and then, the airport was required to remove all debris and discarded equipment from the hanger, inspect and fix any issues with the plumbing, electrical and structure before she took over. Then it was a matter of moving six aircraft, a vintage Soviet truck and radar trailer along with all of her tools and workshop equipment.

In mid-January, Red approached Rachelle about promoting her to 'Head Honcho' of the Stars and Stripes Air Service, though Red would still remain the manager of the Bone Yard and sole owner of both. The position of 'Head Honcho' came with a nice salary increase and benefits package. Rachelle was to oversee the finances, contracts and scheduling of both Stars and Stripes and the Bone Yard. Rachelle was to be the official 'face' of the company, traveling if need be to meet potential clients and she'd have the authority to sign contracts without passing them by Red first. Rachelle even had permission to hire a manager for the day to day activities at the Van Nuyes Airport. She was still in the process of looking for one, being particularly picky since Rachelle would have to work with this person on a day to day basis.

Red explained to Rachelle that she would be available, as time allowed to fill-in as needed with flying choppers, stunt work or if Rachelle wanted to take a vacation. Rachelle had insisted on keeping her up to date on everything that was being worked on or in the works and contact Red whenever arrangements needed to be made for any of their vintage aircraft. Red in turn had to keep Rachelle updated on her schedule and what was available to fly. Red would be on the lookout for new equipment to add to the Bone Yard's collection and consult with Rachelle so they could discuss if the business finances could afford to make the purchase.

Once the Bone Yard move was complete to the Stead Airport, Red would begin working on her other objective of making contact with other owners of vintage aircraft. She wanted to start a database of those who were willing to either rent out their aircraft or had the ability to fly said aircraft in movies as needed. She was going to start with Reno and the surrounding area before expanding outward from there. There had been discussion at one time about expanding the 'Stars and Stripes Air Service' to Reno at the Stead Airport, but it had been decided by both parties to table that discussion for a few years down the road.

The small hanger and runway that currently housed the Bone Yard was to be purchased by a subsidiary of Michael's company so that it didn't show up on the Guardian Angel's list of properties. It would essentially fall off the map and into private hands. Michael had mentioned some thoughts on modifying a few things on the hanger and perimeter fencing, making it a place where they could hide or store Airwolf if the need arose.

The worst part of all of this was shifting everything around. They were still working with the insurance company on the results of the fire. Rachelle had discussed plans with Red on rebuilding the second hanger, adding a professional office and lounge to the construction. They would use state of the art soundproofing materials and it would be a place where Rachelle could meet and entertain potential clients as well as current customers. Rachelle's new office needed to be a place where she could focus on her work without the sound of aircraft being serviced or repaired. Until the insurance issue got finalized, Rachelle had taken over Red's 'Hawke's Nest' in the upper levels of the main hanger. Once the hanger was rebuilt with the proposed office, Rachelle would move out and it would become Red's again for whenever she was on site. The crew only thought it was fitting.

Sam and Red had spent some time looking for an actual house to buy. She refused to live in the cramped city neighborhoods where they were currently renting a house. She would be perfectly happy to have some place off the beaten path but they hadn't found much at this point and she was willing to wait until the right place came along. In the few years since her life was turned upside down, she'd come to love her father's cabin. She missed it already but knew that living there wasn't feasible if she wanted to start up a business here in Reno. She'd thought about moving some of the furniture and maybe a piece or two of artwork to wherever they ended up but part of her felt like it would be a betrayal to String's memory to remove such things. However, if she didn't, it would go mostly unused, sitting for weeks or a month at a time without anyone being up there.

Red brought her wandering thoughts back to the present and huffed a sigh, stretching out a little. She was tired from the physical testing today and it seemed to be affecting her focus a little. She heard Sam come in the back door, returning from training with Mike. What came naturally to Red was a bit of a learning curve for Sam. She was still staring out the window into the dark but saw his reflection in the window as he came up behind her. He rested his hands on her shoulders, looking out at the city. He gave them a squeeze and leaned down, kissing her gently.

"Love you," he whispered in her ear and she exhaled softly, looking upward at him, smiling.

"Love ya right back," she replied, her hand coming up to cover his where it rested on her shoulder, her eyes following the ascending lights of large jetliner.

"Time for bed," he murmured. "You've got another busy day ahead of you tomorrow."

She closed her eyes for a moment, reveling in the feeling of Sam's warm breath on her ear. She mmm'd softly in agreement and rose from her chair, letting him lead her towards the bedroom.

* * *

March 13, 2012

"Dammit Red, slow down!" came Michael's exasperated voice out of the headset within the specialized helmet set up for the current simulation.

With a very quiet sigh, Red adjusted the throttle to cycle down the rotors, slowing their speed and shifted the collective to bring Airwolf out of an upward lift. The simulation showed the airspeed slow as she leveled out, bringing it to hover. "Michael, it's a simulation. If I crash, its reset and try again."

Airwolf sat in the middle of the floor in one of the bigger labs, cables running from under her hood to a large bank of monitoring systems, connecting the computers and navigation systems to the flight simulator program. A flexible screen had been wrapped around the cockpit windows showing a digital landscape to those inside, simulating the look of flight. All electronics and programming were 'tricked' into thinking Airwolf was airborne though the controls to the guns and motors were locked down, unable to engage until the simulation was shut down and all cabling removed.

"You just started flying the simulation two hours ago and already you're trying to do things that take weeks, even months to master." Michael growled into the headset, sounding frustrated as he looked up at the monitors overhead.

Multiple video cameras were set up within the interior of Airwolf, used to monitor and record the body movements of each member of the crew from feet to eyes during simulation exercises. They currently showed Red sitting in a relaxed manner, looking as though she was barely breathing as she moved her hands in small increments, adjusting the controls to keep Airwolf in a steady hover.

"Michael," came Red's firm, but unemotional voice after a few moments of silence.

"Yes?" he responded, trying to keep his calm.

"Do you trust me?" she asked. Her tone stayed level and without inflection.

"What?" He sounded slightly startled by that question, the sound of someone else's voice from years past echoing in his memory.

She exhaled slowly, her eyes flicking up to look at the camera pointed at her. "Do you trust me Michael?" she replied, her tone not changing from the first time she asked the question.

"Yes," he responded immediately, knowing that any other answer would make her question this partnership. He felt a little leery about what she was currently doing. He was worried she was trying to one-up Stringfellow's record or be a showoff.

"Then trust me to know what I'm doing. I've flown more advanced aircraft than Stringfellow ever did until he flew Airwolf. Modern technology has been a part of every single aircraft I flew in the Air Force. The last one I ever flew for Uncle Sam was an experimental jet. I helped test its full capabilities and programming with a simulator for months before it ever went live. The onboard systems almost rival what you're currently doing here and I spent almost a thousand hours trying to push it, test it and then shove it to the extreme. I needed to know how far I could go, figure out what it could do while looking to see if it would break. If it broke, we worked to figure out why, so it was something that couldn't be duplicated in the actual aircraft during flight."

Michael grew quiet for a few minutes as he chewed this over. He had never seen anyone fly like String before or since he'd put him in the cockpit of Airwolf. He had been a natural, flying Airwolf on something close to an instinctual level from day one. It was hard to let go of the concept that no one else could come close to String's talent. He had only seen Red fly once, and that was months ago, from her cabin to the warehouse where she'd dropped a 'bomb' on him by showing him what was left of The Lady. The flight had been an average run-of-the mill transport, nothing fancy or spectacular needed in getting from one place to another. He knew she had a steady hand at the stick but he had nothing else to go on in judging her skill at combat flying. He knew she could fly any number of planes and helicopters but knowing and seeing were two different things. Perhaps his bias had convinced his subconscious that she would be nothing more than a beginner at Airwolf's controls, much like Mike had been several years ago and Sam was last week.

"Michael," came a soft voice in his headset. "Trust me. I'm going to push the systems to the limit with the simulation and try to do the impossible. You're outfitting her with all new electronics and sensors. You've replaced all of her computers and installed new programming into her. She's an old beast with new guts and there's bound to be complications in making the two integrate properly with the desired end result. Better to find the glitches now than experience them in the field when a delay could be counted in lives lost."

He could hear the pride in her voice. She was proud of her experience in working with simulators and prototypes. She was good at what she did and from all accounts, an outstanding pilot if her military record was anything to go by. He sighed softly, "Just bear with an old man whose living somewhat in the past, trying to learn new tricks."

Silence filled the radio for a moment and when she spoke, the camera focused on her face showed the skin at the corners of her eyes crinkle up, their gray blue color flashing with merriment. "Michael, you are in no way an 'old man'. Maybe an 'old dog' learning a new trick, but never an old man."

Michael froze, his heart thudding heavily in his chest as he suddenly saw Stringfellow Hawke sitting in the cockpit, instead of Red.

Mike's voice came over the headset from where he sat at the monitoring station next to Michael. "Red, you've got about fifteen minutes before you need to leave for that meeting with the airport. You wanted me to remind you."

Red gave a little huff of a sigh and mumbled her thanks.

Michael saw his son's worried expression out of the corner of his good eye and he turned to look at him. Mike muted the headset and looked his father over.

"You ok?" he asked, sounding concerned. "You suddenly stiffened and turned as white as a sheet."

Michael looked back at the monitor then back at Mike. "I'm all right. Just," he paused a moment, hoping Mike wouldn't think him sentimental or worse. "I just saw a ghost, a memory. Scary how much she looks like her father when she's dressed in that gray flight suit and helmet."

Mike frowned slightly then nodded once. "Uncanny isn't it," he said quietly. He had seen a number of pictures of her father in his Airwolf gear and the resemblance was striking, especially through the face and eyes. Mike chuckled softly, trying to break the sense of sudden melancholy. "I've had a few people tell me that I look like you when you were younger before the attack, especially around the eyes."

Michael smiled quietly, "Yes. Aluna keeps reminding me about that." He looked back at the monitor to find Red going through post flight checks before pulling her helmet off. She pushed open the cockpit door, the mechanics giving the telltale hiss of hydraulics and adjustment of the cabin pressure. She disappeared from view on the monitor and within moments, reappeared near the desk where Michael sat to monitor the systems.

"I'll try to come back later tonight if all goes well," she said with a bit of a nod. "That is unless you don't need me until tomorrow." She shifted, lifting a hand to rub at her left eye. "I noticed a delay in the pickup lead. Don't know if that's a simulation glitch or if she's got a hiccup somewhere in her systems."

Michael looked up at her and nodded, pursing his lips a little as if in thought. "I'll have the techs look at it tonight. Why don't you get some rest and we'll start fresh tomorrow."

She nodded as she gave Michael a quizzical look, then dismissed whatever it was she might have said before turning to leave the lab. There was little left to do with the hardware and mechanics that required Red to spend time in the lab at the moment. Most of what remained was the programming and software integration, which the only way she could help, was by working in the simulator.

Michael sighed and rubbed his upper lip, just under his mustache, his gaze going back to the monitor that showed an empty pilot chair. Was he ready to allow another Hawke to fly her or was he being over protective now that he'd finally gotten The Lady back into his hands? The ghost of his long lost friend still haunted his dreams at night, more frequently now that Red was spending a majority of her free time here.

Mike put his hand on his father's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It'll get better. Just breathe and try to remember that she's not Stringfellow Hawke. She might be his daughter but she's her own person. The differences are there. Focus on those instead of the similarities between the two. Get to know her for who she is and not compare her to someone who might be lionized in your memories. Memories change with time and distance." Mike paused then smirked a little.

"Don't forget about how frustrated and angry you used to get with String. I've read your notes and journal entries from quite a few of the events that happened when Hawke had Airwolf hidden, doing unofficial missions for you. I've listened to Lydia talk about how you would pace restlessly and then snarl at anyone that came within hearing distance after you and String had butted heads over something." Mike softened his smile. "I've yet to see you get to that level with Red. I get the feeling she's not as bull-headed as her father sounds like he was. Red's willing to compromise unless she's certain she's in the right. Even then, she's willing to take the time to explain why she believes she's correct." He gave his father's shoulder another squeeze.

Michael looked up at his son, eye narrowed for a minute before he forced himself to relax. He exhaled softly and nodded, "You're right. I've just found it somewhat difficult as of late to keep the two separated as memories resurface about things that happened all those years ago."

He reached up and patted his sons' hand and smiled wistfully. "I'll get there. Just have a little faith in your old man."

* * *

March 25, 2012

7:52 PM

Red's whole body ached as she dragged herself into the labs. She felt stiff and sore from the mental and physical beating she'd taken during the last two weeks. She and Rachelle had hashed out the final details on the contract with the Stead Airport, signing the updated copy yesterday. Red, along with Sam and Lex's help, would soon begin moving equipment and the six functioning aircraft from the Bone Yard. She wasn't looking forward to the driving back and forth between the two locations. They'd spent the past ten days packing crates full of tools and loading parts and pieces into a semi for transport. There would be at least two more loads after that one was emptied. The worst part was evaluating each tool or spare part to see if it was worth taking with them. For the aircraft that were currently inoperable, they had to remove their wings so they could be transported via flatbed to the new hanger.

Today had been a push to finish the remaining packing so that they could move everything within a four day time period, allowing Michael's 'ghost' company to take possession by the first week in April. They were already prepping to update the fencing around the small airfield and she'd seen surveyors out there a few days ago. The plan was to turn the building into a workshop for their older helicopter fleet where they could strip them down, paint and prepare them for re-sale. It would also provide a hiding place for Airwolf if they were in a pinch and close to the area.

On top of everything else, Rachelle finally found someone she was willing to hire as a manager but Red needed to have final say. She just wanted to make sure that whoever Rachelle hired was up to the task of running her business. Red had taken a few hours away from the Bone Yard yesterday to test his flying skills. The guy's name was Kurt Cavanah and he had been a civilian pilot for the past fifteen years. He passed and though his flying skills were nothing fancy or spectacular, he had a steady hand at the stick, knowledgeable on how to go from ground to sky and back again without crashing or causing his passengers to have second thoughts. He had a MBA in Management something or other and Red had given her blessing, letting Rachelle take care of salary and benefit negotiations.

Since her physical and mental evaluations, the doctors at the Guardian Angels had put Red on an exercise routine to work on her flexibility and building muscle strength, focusing on the areas that had been damaged in the crash. She hated it but Michael had adamantly insisted upon it. So every morning, bright and early for the past two weeks before she went to work on prepping the Bone Yard for the move, she found herself at a private gym with her very own personal trainer courtesy of the Guardian Angels. Her torturer, whose name was Mark had told her that once she achieved a certain level in her physical training, he would start her on self-defense and fighting skills. Thank god for the fact that she walked or ran most mornings or she might not even be able to move with as hard as he was working her. Working on restoring planes and flying them had kept up her muscle strength for the most part, but not in the areas Mark had been working her in.

Red flopped in the chair in front of the monitors hooked up to Airwolf with a pained groan and flushed with embarrassment as she remembered the training session where he tested her ability to defend herself that didn't require a handgun. Though she had received training in the military, she was a pilot and a different breed of soldier. He had growled at her, stating he would have to start from scratch just to get her to where he felt she would be safe out in the field. That little declaration from Mark had her still flushing with embarrassment.

"God, look what the wolf dragged in," came a jovial voice from behind her.

Red turned her head slightly with a wince, glared at the man grinning at her as he sat down in the chair beside hers. She made an obscene gesture in his direction.

"What in the world have you been doing?" asked Mike.

Red shifted in her seat and slouched a little to ease the pain in her lower back. "What haven't I been doing?" she grumbled. "Physical training with a torturer named Mark first thing every morning, then trying to get the Bone Yard prepped for the move, testing a potential new manager who will be running part of my business…." She made a motion with her hand as if to say 'and so on and so forth', not even bothering to finish the sentence. With an exhaled breath, she closed her eyes.

He mulled that over. "You look like you need a space to crash for a few hours," he suggested. "I can find you a horizontal space for a few hours or see if one of the nap rooms is available."

Red considered that. The 'nap rooms' were an innovation that had surprised her, but made sense with the way that Guardian Angels was run. Tired people made mistakes, and clocking out for an hour or two in the middle of the day to grab a power nap could make a big difference to a lot of people. "Tempting," she admitted. "But I think I'll pass. If I lay down now, you won't get me back up until I've slept for at least six hours. That would have me up all night and no one would want to be around me in the morning."

She rubbed her eyes and then stretched her arms over her head with another wince. "I was in better shape when I was in the military, but I haven't had to train that way since. When you end up taking a year out of your life and have your mangled body put back together, it's hard to make everything work right again and get back into the groove." She frowned, "But I'm definitely being pushed and shoved to get back into top shape again."

"If it's any comfort, when he's done with you in the early morning, Mark comes here to put dad through physical therapy four days a week," Mike supplied. "Actually, he works with several people in the organization who have physical issues because of past injuries. It's something he's specialized in."

She gave an inelegant snort, "Honestly, I think he'd make a great interrogator. Just strap someone up to a treadmill machine and have him yelling at them for an hour. I think almost anyone would break and spill every secret they know, just to make him stop."

Mike gave a bark of laughter. "You know, when I first met you, I never figured you to have much of a sense of humor. You always seemed so straight laced, military, disciplined and so forth. Then you seem to blindside us with cracks like that." He looked over at her to see what her reaction would be and was startled by the look on her face.

Red looked like the cat that ate the canary with that sly grinned, pleased, half-lidded look that was usually seen on TV villains that were plotting someone's demise.

"Uh, should I be running now?" asked Mike in a worried voice, scooting his chair out of her arm's reach.

"If I could get out of this chair without tripping over my own sore legs, I'd tell you that you'd better run for your life. But right now, I'm too damned tired to chase an insolent puppy like you." She closed her eyes for a moment, as if to give the sense that she had given it up as a lost cause.

He relaxed slightly until he heard her say, "But at some point, someday, you will be within arm's reach." He watched as her lips turned up into a devious smirk that made him question his sanity for wanting to fly anywhere with her.

* * *

 **TBC -**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Greetings my faithful few who are still with me through this journey. You don't know how much I appreciate it. I know I keep saying things will start getting exciting soon, but this chapter ended up being a bit of a 'fill in the blanks' and launching point. I had to get a few final things out of my head and on paper before swimming out to the deep end. Chapter 3 - almost done (just needs editing) and it should be loaded soon. That one, I'm proud to say, will toss things up a bit and get the ball rolling for bigger things to come.**_

 _ **Please enjoy and feel free to review. It does the timid writers soul good to know at least someone's enjoying their work, besides themselves. ;)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

April 3, 2012

1:30 pm

MacGyver walked the busy street, not far from his office. He had received an invitation that morning to join Michael Bridges for a late lunch at the bistro he'd visited many times over the years. He knew who 'Michael Bridges' was, thanks to Red who really kept nothing from him. He knew what he even looked like, or had twenty years ago, thanks to the photos that hung in Red's cabin.

As he entered the bistro, he pulled off his sunglasses and looked around the room. Veno, one of the long time waiters, came up to Mac and smiled. "Mr. MacGyver! It's so good to see you, as always. Your party is already waiting for you," said the man, indicating a table near the middle of the restaurant.

Mac simply smiled and nodded, indicating the waiter should lead on.

As he approached the table he was a little surprised to find Michael's only visible escort was that of a beautiful woman, perhaps a little younger than Michael and a guide dog, lying at the man's feet. The dog raised its head and watched Mac approach with intense scrutiny.

The woman indicated to one of the available chairs, inviting Mac to sit. As he pulled out his chair, he cast a glance around. He got the sense that the few patrons who lingered this late in the lunch hour, mostly along the outer walls of the bistro were probably working for the man he was about to have lunch with. Settling into his chair, Mac put the napkin into his lap and took a moment to observe the 'blind' man seated across from him with some curiosity.

Their waiter came over and Mac recognized her as one of the regular servers, his smile for her causing her to blush, flirting with him a little as she brought him a glass of water without him even needing to ask for it.

"I'll have my usual," he told her and she grinned, turning to leave the party at the table alone.

"Thank you for accepting my invitation on such short notice. I was in town and thought I'd take a chance to see if you were free to have lunch with me," Michael said, starting off the conversation in a casual manner.

Mac took a sip of his water and nodded, "Of course. Always nice to get away from the office for a few hours." He grimaced to himself at the thought of how he missed doing field work and how ten years ago, he would never have imagined himself being the one sitting behind Pete's old desk.

Michael indicated the woman next to you, "This is Aluna and this," he said indicating the dog, "is Buster." Michael swiped at his mustache, perhaps a little nervous gesture, perhaps not. "I know we have never formally met but we have at least been in each other's company a couple of times in the past. You were also someone that my 'old' company had instructions to keep an eye out for but not to interfere with if you were in the field."

This got MacGyver's attention and his eyebrows raised. "Really? I don't know if I should be worried or take that as a compliment."

Michael chuckled. "Take it for the compliment that it is. They didn't want to get tangled up in the work the Foundation was often involved in."

Mac raised an eyebrow but gave a quiet smile of thanks. Crossing one leg over the other before readjusting his napkin, MacGyver paused for a moment before continuing the conversation. "Apparently, we seem to have a shared acquaintance too," he stated, taking another sip of water.

"Oh? And who might that be?" asked Michael as he kept his black tinted glasses trained on the younger man across from him, relaxing a little further back into his seat.

"Remember a man named Jack Colvetti? I went to visit him recently and asked him if he knew about you from your earlier days. It seems he had dealings with you on several occasions," Mac stated

Michael smiled warmly, visible smile lines appearing from around the ends of his mustache. "Jack. How's he doing?" he asked, and his tone indicated he was clearly interested in the answer. "Unfortunately, he wasn't someone I could bring in on the…," Michael paused as if trying to find the right word, "…accident years ago. I didn't want to put him at risk."

Mac understood and gave a slight nod. "He's doing well. Retired a while back with a full pension for having served forty years on the Force. He told me a couple of interesting stories about you and gave me some insight into the type of man you were back then. The one story that caught my attention was the QE2 incident."

Michael's shoulders stiffened at the memories, and Mac watched Aluna reach across the table to lay a hand gently over his. Mac raised an eyebrow at this and if he was reading things right, the pair were definitely a couple. "Yes, that one stood out, primarily because of Red's father and the crew. I had a few questions to answer from Jack after that particular case. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to answer the most burning ones, which were about the Lady."

"Yeah, I can see why, though he didn't tell me much more than she was the most incredible helicopter he'd ever set eyes on. He clearly knew she was something special, but not necessarily why." MacGyver grew quiet as the waitress finally returned with their orders. Once the food had been set around the table and water glasses refilled, Mac picked up his fork while watching the others as they prepared to sample what was set before them.

Before Mac could take his first bite of his salad, Michael spoke up. "How do you know Jack?"

Giving the 'blind' man a smirk, Mac chuckled under his breath. "Well, I'd worked with him on several cases that the Phoenix Foundation was involved in." He grew quiet as he chewed on a bite of salad. He looked up at Michael with a touch of humor in his eyes and a tender smile on his lips. "There was a particular case that he helped get dropped about twenty-two years ago, one involving a fifteen year old kid."

This caused Michael to pause, a bite of food half way to his mouth. Putting his fork down he leaned forward slightly in his seat, a keen look of interest showing on his face. "This sounds interesting. Do tell."

Mac took another bite of his salad and chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. "I'd been away on assignment for a week. Pete Thorton was at the airport to pick me up so he could take me down to the police station. I was exhausted, hadn't had a shower in over two days and just wanted to collapse into my own bed. On the way to the station, Pete told me that he'd gotten a call the night before from Jack down at the station saying they had a kid in custody who'd been caught in my boat house. Apparently, one of my silent alarms had been tripped and the neighbor I'd asked to keep an eye on things when I was gone called it in. The police came to investigate and found the kid passed out on my couch." He paused as he took another bite, letting what he'd said sink in.

Aluna raised an eyebrow, "Passed out as in drunk passed out?"

After swallowing the bite he'd taken, Mac looked towards her and shook his head. "Passed out as in so physically exhausted that they could barely get the kid awake to put in the squad car. They thought the kid was stoned or drunk but when the blood test came back with nothing more than having taken an extra dose of cold medication, they weren't sure what to make of it."

Michael ate his meal quietly as he listened, very intent on what MacGyver was telling them. "Let me guess. This kid was one Cheyenne MacPhearson."

MacGyver nodded with a slight smirk. "I get drug into the station by Pete who said I should check out the kid. The police had taken fingerprints and run them through their system. It came back with Cheyenne's name and it had sent up a red flag."

Looking a little confused, Michael sat back. "She was already in the system? And why did it send up a red flag?"

With a shrug, MacGyver ate another bite of salad. "I think due to what she'd been going through the several years since her adoptive mother had died, somewhere along the way, she'd been printed or someone had attempted to get her away from her adoptive father and put her into foster care. I never found out. I think the red flag was for the fact that she was tagged as 'Missing' since her adoptive father died two weeks previously. To this day, she refuses to talk about what happened during the time they practically lived on the streets."

Aluna gave a soft sigh, "Poor kid. From what we've been able to discover about her, she hasn't had it easy. But then again, if she had, she wouldn't be the woman we know today."

Mac pointed a finger at her and nodded, "Exactly."

Michael shifted uneasily, "I take it that you got her out of jail and Jack helped?"

Pushing his mostly empty salad bowl away from him, Mac wiped his mouth off with his napkin and leaned back. "I walk in and Jack's there, waiting for me. He takes me into the monitoring room where there's video of the holding cell she was in and points her out to me. She was huddled in a corner with her knees drawn up to her chest, her face half hidden and only her eyes showing above her knees. She'd been that way since they'd brought her in the night before."

Michael had raised an eyebrow at this, "Interesting." He had pushed his mostly empty plate away from him and crossed one knee over the other, sitting back in his chair.

"I'll never forget Jack's words." Mac cleared his throat and tried to imitate the man. " _'Get her oudda' here. She's giving me the creeps. Hasn't moved since she got here and hasn't said a single word the entire time she's been in custody._ '" Mac chuckled. "He shoves her file into my hands and said that she's the perfect type of case for the 'goodie two shoes' at the Phoenix Foundation to handle."

Mac sat back a little and watched Michaels expression as he continued. "I wasn't going to do anything until I'd had a chance to meet her so they brought her to an interrogation room. She wouldn't look at me as I tried to get her to talk. I looked at the file Jack had given me and saw that her parents had both been Air Force. So I went on a hunch and asked if she liked to fly. Her head jerked up and the look she gave me when she finally did make eye contact..." Mac gave a slight shudder, remembering the haunted look in eyes that showed a soul too old for someone her age.

Michael shifted back and nodded, swiping at his mustache again. "Let me guess. The eyes were so intense that it felt like she was sizing you up, like a bird of prey would a mouse. Cool, collected and yet haunted from memories of things she was too young to have witnessed."

With a jerk, Mac's eyes grew wide. "I take it she's given you that look?"

Michael shook his head then took a sip of water. After swallowing, he 'looked' up at MacGyver. "No. Her father gave me the exact same look the first time I ever met him."

Mac let this thought roll around a little.

"What did you do?" Michael asked quietly.

Mac shrugged, "The only thing my conscience would let me do. I refused to press charges and asked Jack to 'let her fall through the cracks', so to speak. She stayed with me for a few weeks with the agreement that if she didn't run or do something illegal, I'd do what I could to keep her out of the foster system and find her a good place to live until she graduated from High School."

Michael hmmmed softly, "Why didn't you offer to foster her?" he asked.

The other man shook his head as he fiddled with the end of his napkin. "I wasn't prepared to have a teenager living with me and I was also in a line of work that put me into danger more often than not. Sometimes that danger followed me home. I wouldn't want something to happen to me and leave her right back where she started. I also didn't want to put in harms way if something did follow me home. I found an older couple who'd retired from the Foundation several years before who offered to take her in. They had one son but he lived in Japan so they had been dealing with an 'empty nest' for a few years and had been thinking about becoming foster parents. Once we got over some humps in her education, it was a really good fit between the three of them. She stayed with the Poole's until she graduated from high school and joined the Air Force."

"Humps?" asked Aluna as if for clarification.

Mac's face broke into a sly grin. "We got her enrolled in school and she'd tested fairly well for placement to see if they could put her in the grade level for her age range. She hadn't attended a school in the previous two years for more than a couple of months at a time and they were worried her education would be lacking or delayed. But she surprised us all and did well on her exams and was put in with the other Sophomores." He crossed his arms and leaned forward as if to impart a secret, a grin still across his face. "So we get a report from the school a few weeks after she started that several of her teachers were concerned she wasn't paying attention in class and that she never participated and so on. When I asked her about it, she clammed up. The Pooles had already tried to get her to explain what was going on and I realized I was going to have to push a few 'buttons' to get her to open up, possibly even provoke her to explode, maybe get her to start yelling, anything. It worked too and then some. She got so mad at me she threw a glass of water at my head."

The skin around Michael's eyes, half hidden behind his glasses, showed he was a bit surprised by this. "Huh. Well at least she didn't take after String in that manner. When he got pissed, he'd go silent and you wouldn't see him for days, sometimes weeks at a time."

"True, but I would rather not have had someone throwing things at me. However, it got her to tell me what was going on," responded Mac, the look on his face showing that he knew something special about Red.

"And?" Aluna asked, looking a bit exasperated.

"Tell me," asked MacGyver as he turned his head to look at her. "Have you ever met anyone who has a photographic memory?"

Aluna blinked then shook her head. "No, actually. I've heard of a few people who have that ability but never met…" Her voice trailed off and her eyes widened. "You're kidding," she whispered.

Michael grunted, "That would explain the odd times when I didn't think she was paying attention because she staring off into space."

Mac nodded then leaned back again, "Just do me a favor. Don't let on that you know. She's very, and I mean, very skittish about others knowing. I don't really understand why but I guess part of it is that she has always wanted to blend in with those around her and thinks that this type of thing keeps her on the outer edge, looking in."

Everyone around the table grew quiet as they digested what had been revealed. The server came and cleared the plates, asking if anyone wished for desert, which was declined. She refilled their water glasses and left them alone. Michael raised his head to face MacGyver again, a small smile showing around the corners of his mustache.

"So what else can you tell us about Cheyenne? We know she's got a good head on her shoulders for technical stuff, electronics, with engines and machines. She's an extremely talented pilot. She's got a good sense for business though she pushes most of that in Rachelle's direction. I heard she was the one that did all the refurbishing on the old hanger the Bone Yard's located at. It seems like there's nothing she can't do." Michael tapped the table with a finger for each point.

MacGyver shook his head a little, smiling again. "Oh, don't let her fool you. She's not infallible and there are a number of things that she can't do. She can't cook for one thing. Don't even let her try to make you a PBJ. She'll end up messing it up somehow. I swear that girl can burn water. Domestic skills that many of the women I know have at least some inkling on how to do such as sewing, crafts, art, she gets absolutely flummoxed by. She almost flunked out of Home Ec in High School. She also can't carry a tune, even in titanium reinforced paper bag." He paused for a moment then continued. "Thankfully she knows her limits and stays away from the kitchen as much as possible if she can. I think she's had to eat her own cooking one too many times. She might hum a little now and then but you can't even get her to sing Christmas carols."

Aluna had just taken a sip of water and nearly choked when Mac had described her water burning capabilities.

By the time Mac was done going over the list of faults, Michael had gone from an incredulous expression to downright laughter. The two men at the table took a few moments to compose themselves before Michael spoke. "She definitely didn't inherit String's musical talent then," Michael said as he rubbed his chin. "But when you think about it, and from what you've said, she's good with things that are exact, precise. Sciences. And she's bad at things that aren't so exact, like the arts, things that take imagination or the ability to improvise like someone would when it comes to recipes and baking or music."

MacGyver nodded, looking thoughtful. "I had a similar thought about that. And most likely, you're probably right. Oh, and she does have an imagination. I've seen her come up with stuff on the fly to fix things or even when flying. It does take an imagination to be that way."

Letting out a little sigh, Michael turned his head towards Aluna. "All joking aside, I still wish String had let me know about her. We could have kept an eye on her and stepped in to help when things got bad."

Aluna's expression sobered some and she gave Michael a look. "It's a good thing no one knew about her. It very well could have saved her life. Besides, even with all she's lived through, you have to admit that she turned out to be a very handsome, intelligent, strong willed woman."

Mac looked at the older woman and smiled. "She did. And perhaps you're right. Her father keeping her existence secret may have helped her. We already know that when it was brought to light who her father was, that association almost cost her, her life."

Michael shifted and used his napkin to wipe his mustache. "I believe I have two reasons to be thankful you're in her life. One, you took her out of a bad situation as a teenager and put her on a path that made her the incredibly gifted pilot she is today. And second, it's only recently come to my attention that it was you who pulled strings to get her guarded and then transferred to Andrews Air Force Base for her recovery after the crash. If you hadn't, I don't think she'd have been with us today."

The jovial mood was now gone as more serious things had been put in front of them. Mac frowned as he looked up at Michael, his jaw working. "Be thankful that she trusted me enough to take me into her confidence and told me everything about what she'd learned after inheriting the Hawke estate and let me read her father's journals. It was only because of that trust that I knew what to research, finding out that a certain agency was in charge of the experimental jet and test piloting of said aircraft. Unfortunately I didn't put two and two together until a few weeks before the crash. I'd managed to get word to her about it but by then it was too late. They'd already caught her in their crosshairs. The only thing I could do was try to keep them away from her in the hospitals and get her the medical attention she needed."

Aluna's eyes were a little wide this time, "Then it was a very close thing and we can only be grateful you were able to do what you did."

The table grew quiet again as the three stared at each other, MacGyver being the first to look back down at his hands that had been folded on the table in front of him. "So, Michael, I got the sense that you wanted to talk to me about something other than my association with Red."

Michael's hand strayed down to stroke at Buster's head for a few seconds so he could collect himself and mentally shift gears. "I did. From one father to the next, I wanted to talk to you about Sam. I wanted to know where you stand on his participation in the project I'm working on with Red. Sam has proven to be quite capable of handling the second seat and is a fast learner with the technology involved."

"It's up to Sam to make his own choices. There have been times I haven't always agreed with his involvement in things he's done over the years but I've let him make his own decisions and deal with any consequences that might arise. He knows that no matter what he chooses to do, I'll still be there for him and give him whatever support I can," Mac stated, turning his water glass as it sat on the table.

Aluna gave a slight nod. "We've heard about your aversion to guns and violence. Michael's goal with resurrecting this project is in hopes of minimizing violence and trying to make a difference in the world, for the better. Unfortunately as history has shown sometimes, others are not always respectful of someone's good intentions and it comes to blows."

MacGyver looked out the big front window before looking back up at Michael. He was obviously considering the possibilities of the outcome of this conversation before he spoke his peace. "As much as I would love to keep Sam away from danger and away from certain," he paused for a moment to think of how to phrase his thoughts, "...projects that come with their own nest of troubles and pitfalls, I can't stand in Sam's way if it's something he's chosen to do." He was certain that Sam wouldn't appreciate him stepping in and telling him he couldn't do something. The same went for Red.

Michael nodded quietly, "If you want, I can keep you in the loop on anything of importance that might come up. One never knows when someone might have a different perspective that could solve matters more easily."

This caused Mac to raise an eyebrow. "That's quite an offer. However, at this point I'd rather not know. Plausible deniability and all that." He smirked a little, "I wouldn't mind going for a ride once the project is complete, though if Red's the one flying, I might take a rain check."

This caused Aluna to look at him with some confusion. "Why do you say that?"

Mac chuckled softly, "How do you think I got some of my white hair?" he joked softly, pointing to his head. "The first time I flew with Red was in one of the Phoenix choppers. She'd actually bragged about how good of a pilot she was and on a whim, to see if she truly did have the skill, I let her take over the controls from me. Things started out nice and easy, and the next thing I know, she's making the chopper spin around on an axis while still heading in the same direction we'd started out in. By the end of the ride, I was ready to kiss the ground and never fly again. The logical side of my brain said she'd been completely safe and knew exactly what she was doing, having full control of the chopper the entire time. However, the gibbering part of my brain was still trying to deal with the wild ride she'd just taken me on. I think she takes sadistic pleasure in seeing if she can scare me half to death any time we're in a chopper together."

Once again, Michael and Aluna found themselves staring at MacGyver in surprise. It took Michael several tries to speak since he was trying not to laugh at the other man's expense. "Can I ask how old she was when she went on this first flight with you?"

"It was part of her sixteenth birthday present from me," Mac said with a resigned look. Shifting in his seat, he tried to figure out if he should broach a subject he'd been thinking about discussing with Michael. He huffed out a little breath and decided to bite the bullet.

"Can I offer you a piece of advice?" offered Mac.

The master spy raised an eyebrow, one that was just visible behind his glasses. "You can offer. Whether I act upon the advice is another matter."

Mac gave a slight shrug, "It doesn't matter if you act upon it or not. I'm just going to offer you a bit of insight on dealing with Red. I've known her for twenty-two years. I've watched her grow into a woman anyone would be proud to call a daughter. Over the years, I've seen Red at her best and her worst. But, there's things about her that only she knows. If she feels someone trying to pry into her life where they aren't wanted, she shuts down on them. I've been on the receiving end of that a time or two. Part of it is because of the betrayal of her adoptive father and the death of his wife and part of it stems from something even I've never been able to figure out."

Michael coughed slightly, "I see. I appreciate the information and the warning. I will say that so far, dealing with her has been easier in some ways than it was dealing with her father. He pushed everyone else away, everyone except Dominic Santini."

Nodding slightly, Mac steepled his fingers in front of his chin, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair. "I've observed that she's very careful about those she lets get close to her but when she does open up to someone, she considers them to be part of her 'family'. In her life, she's only let a small handful get that close. Sam, myself," he said as he ticked the names off on his fingers, "Jacque Marquee, his son Adrian, Rachelle and Erica." Mac grew quiet then and looked at Michael. "Everyone else she keeps at arms-length."

Michael perked up at this and then looked confused. "Jacque Marquee? Where have I heard that name before?" he muttered as he rubbed at his top lip.

Aluna raised an eyebrow, "Jaque Marquee as in the famous French Chef? The one that does those TV show challenges from time to time?" She smirked at Michael when he turned his head to look at her incredulously. "What? I like watching cooking shows. It's a guilty pleasure."

Mac watched the by-play between the two and smiled slightly. When they finally refocused on him, he nodded. "Yeah, 'that' Jaque Marquee. She met him in Germany when she was stationed at the Ramstein Air Base in 2001. He wasn't the household name he is now. I guess he owned a small bistro above a tobacco shop a few miles from the base and while she was out sight-seeing he invited her to eat at his place. She told me he often joked that she was obviously a 'starving American who wouldn't know good food if it came up and bit her'." Mac made the quote signs in the air with his fingers to emphasize the last part of that statement. "She stays in touch with him every so often, which is saying something. She considers me family and I was lucky if I got a call during the holidays when she was in the Air Force."

Michael grew quiet, considering the meaning behind MacGyver's words.

"Anyway, as I was saying, she's very cautious and keeps everyone else at arms-length. I think it stems from what happened during her childhood. She learned that she couldn't trust everyone she met so until you've proven otherwise and that you aren't going to break her heart or make her doubt her faith in you, she'll stay cool and aloof, professional." Mac stretched out one of his legs, feeling a bit of a cramp behind his knee.

Thoughtful silence followed as the couple contemplated Mac's words. Finally, Michael inhaled and looked across the table at MacGyver. "Any other advice I should know about when dealing with Red?" he asked. He got the message loud and clear that he had to earn her complete trust above and beyond all else before she would even consider making him a part of her 'family'.

"Left to her own devices, she'll do what she feels or thinks is right, learn from her mistakes and defend those around her from suspected danger. However, she sometimes has a one-track mind with a stubborn streak that can get her into trouble. When she sets her teeth into something, it's sometimes hard to get her to let go and it takes a great deal of effort to get her to calm down enough to listen to reason." Mac held up a finger to pause Michael from saying anything. "But I've only seen her like that twice in the whole time I've known her. It's rare for it to happen but it can. I'm telling you this information for future reference in dealing with her. She may seem a lot like her father to you on the surface, but she's her own person under the veneer of a woman who knows her mind and seems experienced in the world's machinations. Once she puts her trust in someone, she expects that trust to be returned and that she'll be trusted to make the right decisions on her own. When it's not, the results are some of the most worrisome and heart breaking I've ever seen. She has a very long memory and she is sometimes quick to anger, followed by a very slow burn. There are people out there both dead and alive that I don't think she'll ever forgive for their betrayal of that trust."

During Mac's explanation, Aluna had reached out to take Michael's hand, her touch soothing, and Michael turned his hand to hold hers. "Thank you for the warning, but the truth is that I would no more betray Red than I would turn on my own son," Michael assured him.

Mac smiled a little, rubbing the side of his nose. "I'm telling you this because she's let go of the one thing that could bring her retribution for what was done to her. Red put the 'Lady' into your hands and for her, that's a big step. It's the first sign of her beginning to put her trust in you. Let her come to you, if and when she needs you. Give her space and time to deal with anything that might happen, especially if it throws her for a loop. In the end, she'll get things figured out faster if allowed to do it on her own."

Michael darted a look towards Aluna and then back at MacGyver. "That's good advice. I'll file it away in case there comes a time when I might need it."

Just as he was about to say something, his watch beeped quietly and Michael silenced it with the push of a button. "I believe our time is up and I have to get back to headquarters." He leaned over a little and took up Buster's guide handle and his cane. "Next time we meet, we should make it a more private setting, perhaps with the 'kids'," he offered with a teasing smile.

Mac chuckled, standing as well and going over to Aluna's chair to help pull it out so she could stand. She graced him with a polite smile before moving over to Michael's side. "Just promise me that you won't let Red know that I've told you her secrets. I might not find myself a welcome intruder at the cabin for some time."

Michael turned slightly and faced Mac's direction. "I won't make promises but I'll do my best to keep it our little secret."

* * *

As Michael got into the back of the limo, letting Buster situate himself between his feet, he took off his dark shades and handed them to Aluna. She plucked them from his fingers, replacing them with his regular single-lensed glasses.

"Well that went better than expected," he said as he settled into his seat.

Aluna raised an eyebrow and gave a slight huff of laughter, "What? You expected him to be confrontational about all of this? I saw what you did," she teased him lightly. "To this day, I'll never know how you manage to find the right words to manipulate someone into telling you their secrets."

Michael turned his head towards her and gave her a lazy smile, making him look like the rogue he was. "Oh, it's actually quite easy. I saw how he acted around Red during and after the Christmas concert. Whether she realizes it or not, he looks at her like a daughter. She came into his life a few years before he found out about Sam according to our files. Her accomplishments and abilities are something that's given him a sense of pride knowing that he pulled her out of a terrible situation and set her on the path to becoming the woman she is today."

Aluna shook her head a little and smiled with a little exasperation. "I can see that. You got him to start bragging about her. With a compliment here, a question there, you pulled all of that information out of him and then some."

Reaching down to scratch Buster behind the ear, Michael looked towards the front of the Limo. "Thing is, I got the sense he knew very well what he was telling us. I think he's testing us, as well as giving us a glimpse at who the real Cheyenne Hawke is. His 'advice' was more of a warning for us to be careful with where we step."

Giving a non-committal noise, Aluna looked down at her phone. "Margret got the entire conversation on video for your review. He gave you quite a bit of new information that can be added to Mike's growing file on her. I know a few of the things MacGyver talked about have been mentioned by her or Sam, but it's interesting to get the other side of the story." She typed out a message on her small keypad and sent a text to someone.

Michael made a non-commital noise as he propped up his elbow on the armrest, a finger stroking his mustache.

"Do you want us to have someone dig a little bit further into her past and perhaps find out what happened to her between the time of her adoptive mother and father's death?"

Michael's finger paused, resting on his lips as he thought about it. Moving his hand away from his face, he looked back at Aluna. "If it can be done in a way that won't cause any serious issues. I don't think anything we find will be of use to us right now but it might be worth having it tucked away just in case something pops up."

Aluna closed her phone and crossed her legs, "Anything else stand out about your conversation with MacGyver? I find it fascinating that she has photographic memory, but yet I see her with a small pad of paper and pencil making notes from time to time."

His good blue eye tracked the progress of a car next to them and he gave a slight grunt in answer. "If she's as skittish about others knowing she has that ability, she may use as a diversion tactic that probably started years ago. Perhaps she was questioned one too many times about her ability to remember exact details. But that bit of info gives new insight to some of her little idiosyncrasies." He closed his good eye and laid his head back.

His companion knew he was thinking over the discussion, looking for anything of importance. She left him to it as her phone buzzed in her hand and she opened it to review the response to her previous text message. Office work never stopped and she was trying to deal with a small staffing issue that had come up while they were at lunch. She was so lost in the issue that she gave a little start when Michael spoke up.

"I know this is going to sound paranoid of me, but I'd like to know anything and everything there is about Jaque Marques and his son." He opened his good eye and looked at Aluna. "Don't look at me like that. I just want to make sure that whoever he is, we'll know if he has any influence over her. It just strikes me as odd, of all her time in the military, the only people she's let close to her are MacGyver and Sam, her manager and her daughter, and a man she met in France years ago. Why him? What makes him different than any of the other people over the years that have crossed her path?"

Aluna had given him an exasperated look. Michael was still first and foremost a 'spy'. Old habits and suspicions died hard and would occasionally rear its head in instances like this. "I think you're getting even more paranoid in your old age. You heard MacGyver. She's a horrible cook. Maybe Jaque took pity on her and fed her some of the best food she'd ever tasted in her life while she was in France. The old adage of a way to a 'man's heart is through his stomach' could very well hold true with her too."

This caused Michael to give a small bark of laughter. "True. But I want to be safe. We're so close to this project being done that I don't want any unexpected issues to arise because I failed to research someone."

She gave a soft sigh of defeat and rolled her eyes. "Fine. Just be prepared for me to say 'I told you so.' Besides, were you ever this paranoid with Dominic or Stringfellow or even Caitlan?"

He gave her a sharp look. "Yes. Even more so. Merella just hid it from everyone else. She understood the reasoning behind my supposed paranoia."

Aluna grew quiet, her lips pursed together. Moffett. To this day, she sensed that his slip-up with that deranged man would haunt him until the day he died.

* * *

April 17th, 2012

2:30 p.m.

Red pulled a box from the stack sitting in the middle of the new hanger on the old Stead Air Force Base grounds and lugged it over towards a massive row of shelves. The hanger was big enough to hold two B-52 Bombers if one got creative in how they parked them. Setting the box down at the base of the shelves, she straightened with a grimace, her back twinging slightly.

As she tried to stretch things out a bit more, she looked around the new Bone Yard and smiled a little to herself at the collection of aircraft she'd begun to collect. One side of the hanger was her fully functional pieces. The Steerman, Huey, G-Bee, Corsair, and the Soviet Radar trailer and truck had been cleaned, serviced and set aside after arriving, just in case any were needed for upcoming projects. These were the current money-makers and she needed to keep them in top condition, ready to go at a moment's notice.

The other side of the hanger held four, half disassembled aircraft either left over from when Jack Burton had owned the old hanger or from something she'd acquired in the hopes of resurrecting it at a later date. All four had their wings either strapped to their sides, cables and wiring hanging from underneath or the wings were completely disconnected and sitting on the floor next to the aircraft.

A light spring breeze blew through the open doors, still with a hint of coolness from the higher elevation. It carried the scent of paint fumes towards her from the renovation the hanger had gone through just before the move. Things had been delayed by a week due to a mix-up in schedules of the painters and an electrician. At least she'd been able to use that spare time to put in some time on the simulator back at the Guardian Angels Headquarters and continue the search for a new house. Things were going better with the simulator, but not so good for house hunting. She knew to be patient and sooner or later, the right house would come along. She just wished it would be sooner rather than later.

Wiping her hands down the front of her ratty coveralls, she bent over to open the box she'd just set down and stared inside. More parts. She hadn't realized how much stuff had been squirreled away in the old Bone Yard until they had to pack it all up. Thankfully she'd been able to do a little purging of the stuff Jack had left behind, lightening the load by at least a few hundred pounds. Pulling a wiring rig from the box, she took the time to give it a closer inspection. She wasn't going to rush unpacking because she knew there was stuff in these boxes that could be parted out or given a closer inspection before deciding if it needed to be pitched or put away.

A low, appreciative whistle came from the doorway, causing Red's head to jerk up. The only problem she had with this new place was that she couldn't hear people approach. The sound got swallowed up by the vastness of the hanger before ever reaching her. Standing in the doorway were two men, one dressed in casual business attire with a light windbreaker on and the other dressed as if prepared for a board meeting. The two standing together like that in the bright light of day, she could see the striking resemblance between the two.

Stepping away from the shelves, she wiped her dirty hands down the front of her coveralls again and walked towards the two. "What brings you two out this way?" she asked as she looked Michael and his son over. Both seemed to be relaxed and in good humor so she let herself relax a bit. Most likely this was a social call more than anything to do with business.

Michael stepped inside the doorway, his cane tip clicking on the concrete floor. "Looks like you're finally settling in Miss Hawke. This place cleaned up pretty well." His gaze seemed to miss nothing as he looked at the different aircraft.

She smirked a little, "Yeah, even with the extra week delay, they managed to pull off getting it refurbished to specs. Now if I can just keep looking as good as it does right now, I think that'll be half the battle won."

Mike chuckled as he approached her, "So, I heard you took Mark down to the mat this morning during your training session."

Red's checks flushed in embarrassment and she averted her eyes. "Yeah, I got fed up being used to wipe the floor with so I played dirty. I, uh…," she paused, realizing she had Michael's full attention. "I wounded his pride. I think he might be walking funny for a day or two," she muttered, looking towards the floor.

"It's his own fault for not wearing a cup," responded Mike, trying to wince and stifle a laugh at the same time.

Shifting nervously, she rocked on her heels a little, a touch of a smile appearing at the corner of her lips. "He was wearing a cup. Just because a guy's wearing one doesn't mean it's an impenetrable barrier."

Silence followed that statement until the sound of muffled laughter could be heard. Looking up, Michael had pursed his lips tightly as he tried to keep his laughter contained. It took a moment for him to collect himself before he let a feral grin spread across his face. "So that's why he canceled our training session this morning," he said, still chuckling under his breath.

Shifting her weight from one foot back to the other, she shoved her hands into her pockets and pursed her lips. "Not sure what to expect in a few days with him."

Mike smirked as he looked around again, his eyes going to one of the functioning planes. "He'll most likely be a bit more guarded and cautious. But you won't be able to take him down a second time with that same move. Mark's a good teacher. He knows not to be retaliatory against his students, especially if they catch him off guard."

A little tension eased out of her stance and she looked at Michael. "So what brings you here today?"

Michael had moved off to examine the Steerman, running a finger along the tip of the wing. "Just wanted to get a look at the place and see how you were doing," he offered, turning to look at her over his shoulder. He reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out an envelope, "And to bring you this."

Reaching for the envelope, she pulled open the flap that had been taped down and pulled out a check, along with a couple of single page documents that had been officially signed and showed the seals of some officiating office. "What's this?" she asked.

"It's the second half of the agreed upon payment for the old Bone Yard and the final sale paperwork. I figured I'd bring it down instead of having it sent in the mail. Gives me a chance to check out your new digs," he offered with a casual smile.

She shoved the check back in the envelope and nodded. "Thanks." She grew quiet and then sensed Michael had something else on his mind. "Something else I can help you with?" she asked.

Before Michael could open his mouth, Mike butted in. "He's not sure how to ask you about why you didn't ask for help moving all of this stuff here. He's been fussing about it for weeks and can't figure out why you insisted on doing it all yourself."

Michael turned to glare at his son. "Remind me never to tell you any top secret intel. You'll just end up blabbing it to anyone who asks." He frowned a little in disapproval at Mike before looking back at Red. "Yes, as Mike so bluntly put it, why didn't you ask for help? Lord knows we've got enough resources that we could have helped you make this easier."

Red watched the two men banter for a moment, rocking on her heels with a slight smirk gracing the corner of her lips. When Michael finally turned back to see what her answer was, she motioned towards the row of shelves that had a scattering of supplies and objects stored. "Come here," she stated and moved in that direction, her hands still shoved in her pockets.

Michael gave his son a quizzical look but both turned and followed her over towards the shelves. The long workbench that took up a third of the wall was scattered with a number of items in the process of being disassembled. In front of the bench was a 5-gallon bucket with a lid on it.

Nodding towards the bucket, "Open it," she said, not caring which of them did.

Mike moved over towards the bucket and reached down, pulling the lid off. The sound of splashing water could be heard from where she stood. He looked down into the bucket then back up at her, confusion written all over his face. "You put a bunch of electronics in water? I don't understand."

With a snort, she went over to the bucket and pulled up her sleeve, reached in and pulled out what had obviously once been a high tech video surveillance camera. It looked like someone had taken a hammer to it before dumping it into the bucket of water. "All of this was found while cleaning out the Bone Yard in preparation for the move. This isn't my stuff and I sure as hell didn't put it there. Every one of these items in here are either listening devices, video recorders with live feed, motion sensors and storage devices."

This had Michael's attention and he walked over to peer into the half full bucket. Giving a low whistle he lifted his cane to put the tip of it into the bucket to poke around at the submerged, broken remains.

Looking back up at her, he seemed curious. "If you'd already smashed them, why did you dump it all in water?"

Giving a slight shrug, she dumped the camera back in, letting the water splash out in small droplets. "Salt water to be exact. Water will short out and corrode the more delicate electronics. Salt just speeds the process along. I wasn't taking any chances on something being smashed and still working. This way I knew for sure nothing would be recoverable."

Michael huffed out a slight laugh, "Remind me never to piss you off. I'd be afraid to find out what you'd do to get even."

Red smirked, but rolled her eyes a little, "If you want to know why I didn't ask for help, I have two reasons. The first is for the very same reason I didn't want you showing up to offer help when the hanger burned. Thanks to your intelligence report when we first met up at the cabin, I knew I was being monitored. If I had non-employees showing up to help out with something big like the fire or the move, whoever was watching me would be start to wonder who these people were. If they got really curious and started digging, they might ask why I would hire a security firm or someone that's part of a subsidiary to said company and not a restoration or moving company, to help me clean up the mess from the fire or pack up a bunch of junk and move it. It was never a guarantee I was being monitored but by being able to go through things on my own, I was able to find proof. So it's a good thing I never took you up on your offer."

Michael pointed his cane around the area, "What about this place? It could be bugged too."

Red shook her head, folded her arms over her chest and smirked. "For once I've got the upper hand. I had Mac set up a security system for this place that involves motion sensors and a compilation of other monitoring systems with a redundancy backup off-site in case the one stored here is disabled or removed. All run on their own battery source so they can't be shut off by cutting the power. I can monitor the live feed or the backup on my laptop from anywhere, so long as I have internet access. I'll know if someone's been here. Besides, I've got several scramblers set up in different areas that I can trigger with a remote if I have certain visitors." She dropped her arms and reached into one of her pockets, pulling out a small fob that looked like a car remote. "Which I did when you guys walked through the door. Even if someone's able to get something in or around this place, they wouldn't be able to hear anything and any video device would come back garbled. Cell phones won't work either while they're on. That's why I had a hard line set up for the hanger. I can route my cell phone calls there while I'm here."

Michael's face spread into a feral grin as she described the systems in place. He was glad to see that she'd finally decided to take control and not allow herself to be intimidated. MacGyver would be the best for creating and implementing such a system and he relaxed a little, knowing this was one less place he had to be concerned about. With this news, something clicked in the back of his thoughts and his face took on the look of someone contemplating the cosmos.

Mike looked over back into the bucket of destroyed surveillance equipment before dropping the lid back on it and sealing it up. "What's the second reason?" he asked.

She smirked at him, "Because I'm a stubborn, independent, bull-headed bitch who knows her shit." She pointed towards the shelves. "I used the move to help 'clean house' in more ways than one. I truly doubt you would have been able to find me enough people who could identify on sight what some of this stuff is and what it goes to. Most likely it would have been a bunch of people shoving stuff into boxes and loading it onto a truck, even if the stuff was trash or unusable. A majority of these spare parts were left overs from the former owner and I'd never taken the time to sort through and purge his junk. Besides, I'm particular about who touches my stuff."

Michael raised his hands in surrender and looked heavenward as if asking for patience and sighed. "Fine. All right. You win."

Mike chuckled softly. "My father rarely concedes defeat but at least he's gracious enough to realize when he's beat." Walking back over to his father's side, he indicating the doors. "We should let you get back to unpacking. We just thought we'd stop by an take a peek around. Kinda nice to see you dressed in something other than a gray flight suit."

Red snorted as she looked down at her worn, grease and oil stained coveralls. "And this is any better?" She waved them off, "Get out of my hair. I'll see you tomorrow morning for another round of simulator tests."

* * *

Mike waved at Red as he steered his father out the hanger doors and into the back of the car. He gave the driver the signal to head back to headquarters before turning to Michael. "I've seen that look before," he said. "The one that means you've had an epiphany of some sort."

Michael ground his teeth a little. "It just clicked when she started talking about the systems she had MacGyver put in place after seeing the bucket of broken surveillance equipment." He paused as he worked to gather his thoughts.

"Do you think her 'going off radar' and preventing them from reestablishing connection is what caused Zeus to take an interest in her again? Perhaps it's the reason he pulled out that video and her file from his safe?" Mike didn't like the implications of what his father was possibly alluding to.

Michael turned to look at his son. "I glad she's managed to get rid of his ability to follow her, however I don't like that it's roused him enough from his 'slumber' to take notice of her again. I need our people to be extra diligent in monitoring what Zeus say or does. I don't want to be caught off guard because we missed something."

Mike slumped back into his seat. "Thankfully it'll take another few months of testing on the simulator and then training with the three of us together before the Lady's ready for her first real test flight. Maybe by then he'll have settled down and she'll drop off the radar again or it'll all boil over and we'll have our hands full."

Thumping the end of his cane down on the floor of the car, Michael growled. "I need to get my people working on decoding the rest of the downloaded database. I need proof, absolute and total proof. I need our people on the inside to finish getting their research done and get the results to us. I want to be ready in case this comes to a head. If it does, I want to end this before it begins."

 **TBC -**

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

 **I had someone ask me recently why I put time and dates on some of these entries. Part of it is because I want to express how much time has passed. Though I'm trying to stick somewhat to the feel of the old TV show, there are some things I'm still trying to give a realistic feel to. One such point is to show how much time has passed since Airwolf was discovered and the process of refurbishing her to make it the highest tech thing out there once again. To do that, it won't happen overnight. Plus you've got a team to train to make use of Airwolf to its utmost capabilities. Red might be a natural but she's having to learn a whole new system and how to mesh with the other two in the cockpit with her. This is an opportunity for Michael to do things properly, something he never got a chance to do with The Lady in the original series.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

_**(Greetings! So I gift you with the next chapter in this saga, only hours after the last one. I hope those of you that are my faithful few followers will enjoy the surprise in this chapter. I would offer a 'trigger' warning of terrorist attacks.**_

 _ **Read and enjoy. Review if you wish. Reviews feed the writers soul.)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

April 24th, 2012

11:00 a.m.

Michael watched as Red worked the simulator over for the third straight hour. It had taken him several days of leaving her alone with the simulator, letting her go through a full range of flight runs, trying to actually break the system. She'd found at least four flaws in the coding that he knew of and had given him a glimpse at her true piloting skills. She had succeeded in impressing the hell out of him by some of the things she was able to make the simulator do. Granted, he wouldn't let himself be completely blown away until he'd seen her pull those same moves in the air.

Today was to be the last of the test runs on the system to see if all of the bugs had been worked out. She'd 'crashed' Airwolf six times since she'd started at 8:00 a.m. this morning trying to repeatedly break the system by making it do the impossible. The only reason he wasn't growling at her over the headset was because he'd asked her to do everything in her power to try to crack the programming, on purpose. He wanted her to put her experience as a test pilot to the absolute test.

He knew that once she was done, the techs would run a full diagnostics on Airwolf's systems from mechanical to computerized. They would pour over the results of today's tests, looking for anything that was out of place, any anomaly that might indicate something might be wrong somewhere else in the programming. He wanted this system clean and working as smooth as possible. To say he was nervous would be an understatement. The Lady hadn't been airborne in over twenty years and he was edgy about her being unleashed for the first time since her last flight with String at the helm.

Once the techs were done and had dealt with any remaining flaws in the system, they would put Red, Mike and Sam in the cockpit together and start them working towards being a cohesive team. Sam and Mike had been working together for several weeks now but neither had yet to 'fly' with Red. Michael knew that each of the men needed to find their own confidence in the system without putting someone as highly skilled like Red in the cockpit with them. He wanted the two to know Airwolf's systems forwards and backwards, possibly blind if need be, before he subjected them to her level of expertise.

As he watched Red force the system to 'crash' for a seventh time, he thought about his son's advice. Ever since his lunch date with MacGyver, he'd focused on going back over her files, watching any video they had of her from the time she'd first come to their attention to her most recent videos of her in Airwolf's simulator. He'd even forced himself to watch the entire video that had surfaced from Zeus' files of her interrogation. He had vowed to never watch it again as even the thought of it made his skin crawl. Other videos had surfaced since they had begun researching her past, one of which was classified video of her simulator work with the ResRadt prototype jet. The amount of abuse she'd taken from the creator of the jet was astonishing. He'd often yelled at her in Japanese, especially when he was upset at something she'd done. Someone had taken the time to translate what he was yelling at her and it was downright degrading to her ancestry. The fact that she had taken it all with little more than gritted teeth, clenched fists and a few long suffering sighs gave him greater insight into her mental fortitude than any psychologists report could give him.

By doing all of this, he was trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle that was Cheyenne Hawke. He had been working to see past the similarities she shared with Stringfellow, to look past the memories and to the person underneath. It helped also that his techs had finally released information from Airwolf's databases that reminded him just how stubborn Stringfellow really had been and some of the arguments they'd had. Having those memories brought into the light of day made him truly appreciate that Red was not her father on many levels.

His eyes flicked to the different video relays inside Airwolf and listened as she spoke with the techs over the coms. He had also begun to notice verbal nuances, facial expressions, body movements and hand gestures that were not something he'd ever seen Hawke do or say. He had finally begun to see her for who she was and the overlaid images of Stringfellow had begun to fade. He still saw an occasional look, especially when she had the helmet on and she smirked. It was still haunting for him to 'see' Stringfellow in those moments.

Taking a deep breath, he exhaled and reached forward to push the speaker button, "Red, why don't you call it. I think you've probably pushed things far enough and I'm sure the techs are already chomping at the bit to see what the diagnostics have to say. Go ahead and clean up, then meet me in the control room. I've got something I want to show you when you're done."

He saw her eyes glance up at the camera that was focused directly on her face. She gave a slight nod and finished putting the simulator through one last run before she cycled it down. He watched her pull off the helmet and climb out of the cockpit, setting it on the seat. Michael rubbed at the side of his mustache now and then in nervous anticipation as he waited for her to finish up in the locker room, ignoring the bustle of the techs around him. Finally she slipped through the door to the control room and stood a few feet from him, hair still wet from the quick shower she'd taken.

"What did you need Michael?" she asked, a slight upturn to her lips as she seemed to be in good humor at the moment.

He levered himself up out of his chair and motioned for her to follow. "I've got something for you to see," he said as he walked out into the hallway and he made his way to the elevator. He didn't need to turn to see if she'd followed. He'd heard a footstep behind him as she came up to stand next to him as they waited for the elevator to arrive. Without a word, he stepped into the car that would take them up to the second floor where most of the private offices were housed. As soon as she had stepped in, he pushed the button and in silence, they were taken upward.

When the elevator doors opened to expose a nicely furnished hallway, he saw Red looking around out of the corner of his eye. He'd never taken her to this level since the top floor was the 'Gate Room' and the lower levels underground were the labs. This floor was usually quiet. Several of the doors to either workrooms or someone's office were closed, allowing staff a modicum of privacy while working on projects of a sensitive nature.

Opening the door to one of the vacant offices, he motioned for her to enter and then indicated she could take the chair behind the desk. She hesitated for a moment, giving him a guarded look before she moved to sit in the comfortable leather chair.

Looking up at him, she finally spoke. "What's this about Michael?"

He motioned towards the computer. "Go ahead and log in using the account we created for you. There's something I want you to see. The file permissions will only allow you to view them from this computer in this office since they contain sensitive information."

She looked at him with a touch of confusion and then her expression closed off as he watched her start to shut down her emotions as if preparing for a fight or flight response. He didn't blame her but he hoped what she was about to be exposed to would be something she'd been needing, something to give her perspective into the world she was about to embark. He also wanted her to know who Stringfellow Hawke really was and not just a face in a scattering of pictures on a wall.

After she logged in, he pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. "If you go to this file location, you will find hundreds of video and audio files. These are files retrieved from Airwolf's computers. I don't know if String ever knew but any time there was motion around the exterior of Airwolf and within, several small cameras in the cockpit and certain exterior angles would activate to recorded audio and video. Some of the videos that were downloaded have been used to help with simulation runs. The rest of what we found are in those files in that folder. I hope you will find something of personal value in them."

He watched her blink at him in surprise and saw a touch of confusion color her features. She took the slip of paper and with a few swift clicks, opened the folder on the desktop. He stood across the desk from her, not needing to see what she saw since he was the one that had approved everything that had been left in that file folder. There were over a thousand hours of video and audio dating back to when String had become the first test pilot for Airwolf. Some of it wasn't the best in picture quality and at times the audio cut out but for the most part, it was still top of the line for its time.

Her hand moved the mouse and she seemed to be skimming through the files, finally clicking on one randomly. The video came to life as well as the audio from the speakers attached to the system.

Michael heard, without seeing the video she'd chosen. The sound of the startup sequence of Airwolf could be heard, beginning with the beeping of the ignition switch. The engines fired up and the rotors started to whip around as the sound rose in pitch. As soon as the system was fully operational, it stayed at a certain RPM as if preparing to take off. Then something changed, causing the sound of the engines to cycle down.

He watched her for a moment, her eyes growing wider as she took in the views of the different cameras. Michael knew that he'd already been put to the back of her mind and she was no longer consciously aware of his presence in front of her. At the sound of a voice through the speaker, his hand gripped the handle of his cane a little harder, his heart hammering in his ears for a moment. That particular memory of what had transpired was not one of his favorites.

'And here we are Mr. Hawke, at last," came the deep baritone voice of D.G. Bogard. 'Surely you did not expect a simple deception to throw me off the scent.'

'Who tipped you off?' responded Stringfellow.

'Oh, I can't tell you that,' responded Bogard in that smug voice of his.

The sound of Airwolfs engines cycling higher gave indication that Hawke was trying to lift off the ground.

'Don't try it Hawke,' warned Bogard. The sound of the snarl that Airwolf's engines made could be heard through the speakers as Hawke swung the Lady around, trying to find an exit. 'You can't do it without bringing you and us down together.'

'Don't tempt me,' was Hawke's only response.

Michael closed his good eye for a moment, the voices coming from the speakers bringing back the ghosts of the past within his mind's eye.

'Give it up Hawke. There's nothing you can do.'

'And what if I refuse?' asked Hawke as the engines snarled again and cycled higher.

Without waiting to hear Bogard's response, he turned and quietly left the office, shutting the door behind him.

Inhaling slowly, he closed his good eye again then exhaled. He was pretty sure he wouldn't see Red for the rest of the day. He made a mental note to ask Lydia to take Red some lunch and see that if she was still here by dinner time, to take her a plate of food. He swore that woman didn't eat enough.

* * *

Red swallowed, feeling her mouth going dry as she watched the video split four ways, showing different angles internally and externally. One was of the cockpit while three were of the exterior. The video she'd chosen at random showed the convergence of four helicopters, three gray colored and one silver. She watched in awed silence as the exterior cameras showed movements in all quadrants around Airwolf and knew instinctively what Stringfellow was doing.

At the sound of his voice, her body shuddered and she inhaled sharply. She didn't realize it until later when she'd had time to process everything she'd seen and heard that it was the first time she remembered hearing her father's voice. Up until now, she'd seen only pictures of him and read his journal entries but she didn't remember his voice. Too many other memories crowded out any she might have had as an infant and no matter how hard she had tried, she could remember only faint hints and in the end had always chalked it up to her imagination.

As she watched and listened, she absently noticed Michael leave, but she couldn't make herself look away from the computer screen. Hawke had appeared cornered but with a touch of deception and ingenuity, he'd evaded them.

'Get yourself off the range Dom. I'm headed your way with Bogard's huntin' dogs on my tail. Someone tipped him off about the switch and I bet I know who.'

The voice she heard next nearly made her heart stop. She remembered that voice, though it was faded by time. She had a vague recollection of laughter and of soft singing. It was just the sense of him using his voice to try and lull her to sleep.

'You may be right. But listen String, you can't come this way. Those B-52's are about to let go,' responded Dominic Santini.

'That's just what I'm countin' on,' was Hawke's response.

'But you'll wind up in a million pieces,' exclaimed Dom. She could hear the fear and worry in his voice.

'Well wish me luck,' was her father's only response before she watched the most extraordinary video that showed her father at his best at the controls of the most advanced aircraft of his time.

When the bombs started to fall and just before the video whited out for a few moments, she'd seen the blast shield automatically slide down over his eyes.

Just as the video cleared, she saw the blast shield rise and there was an incredibly smug look to his face, especially around his eyes. She knew instinctively that he was on a pure adrenalin rush, and happy to have survived. To be honest, so was she. She felt her heart racing and her palms sweaty.

'Brer Rabbit to Brer Fox,'

She heard Dominic's voice come over the radio, almost unbelieving that Hawke had survived. 'String! Are you okay?!'

'I was born in that briar patch.'

* * *

9:54 p.m.

Michael sat in his office, staring at his computer screen. He'd sent Sam home an hour earlier with the explanation that he'd given Red some of the technical files for Airwolf to review and she might be at it awhile. Sam had asked him to make sure that she at least made it home tonight. He had given Sam his word and had to chuckle a little at the dubious look he'd been given before Sam left.

He looked at the small clock on his desk and figured he'd give Red a few more minutes before he went to get her. His mind kept going over the first video she'd pulled up and absently wondered what others she'd chosen to watch.

A soft knock sounded on his door and he looked up, "Come in," he called as he closed down the document he'd been working on.

Red stepped into the office, her demeanor quiet, possibly contemplative.

Motioning for her to come forward, he indicated the chair Sam had sat in an hour earlier. "Glad to see you resurfaced. I was about ready to go see if you were still alive since Sam made me promise to make sure you at least made it home tonight." He saw a faint smile turn up the corner of her lips but she remained quiet as she moved towards a chair he indicated for her to sit. "Something's obviously on your mind."

Stepping towards the chair, he noticed she had a steno notepad clutched in one hand. As she sat Michael sensed that something had changed in her demeanor. She seemed cautious as she took the offered seat. She sat back a little, the pad of paper on her lap, her fingers running over the spiraled wire holding it together.

Feeling as though she might not know where to start, he simply asked. "What can I do for you? Is there something you need or want to talk about?"

Looking up at him through lowered lashes she gave a slight grimace, pursing her lips a little. "I wanted to thank you for giving me a chance to," she hesitated as she searched for the right words. "For the chance to see what my father was like, what he went through, even what you went through, all because of a piece of advanced machinery. Granted, it's one hell of a piece of machinery but it seems like a lot was lost or given up just to keep it out of the hands of others."

Michael sat back further in his chair, propping his bad leg up on the hassock. Planting his elbows on the arm rests, he steepled his fingers together and touched his lip as if in thought. "I didn't show you those videos to intimidate you or make you change your mind about what we're hoping to accomplish here. I just wanted you to go in with your eyes wide open, knowing what others are capable of. When Airwolf flies again, it could start all over if the Firm isn't brought to heel before then. There's new super powers out there in the world, different dictators and corrupt governments, even some within our own government that would stop at nothing to get their hands on the tech within the Lady or the information that had been stored in her original database."

Letting out a slow breath, she nodded. "I…," she paused, trying to put her thoughts into words.

Michael waited quietly and it struck him that he was seeing a side of Red he'd never witnessed before. She suddenly seemed younger, perhaps uncertain now about the future. His thoughts went back over what MacGyver had revealed to them during their lunch date the previous month and he realized that the tinge of animosity she always seemed to hold towards him was gone.

It took several more moments for her to gather the courage to speak. "What I saw today reaffirmed my need to see this through to the end, possibly beyond."

Michael gave a little nod then looked at the note pad. "What's that?" he asked casually, hoping to steer the conversation away to something possibly less intense. He knew that what she'd seen today would take a while to digest. He was positive she wasn't done watching even a fraction of those videos.

With what some might have called a 'timid' smile, she held out the notepad towards him. "I know you said that the videos were for my eyes only, but I was wondering if I could start a collection of small clips of certain things. Taken out of context, they probably won't mean a thing to anyone else but I'd at least like to be able to have something as a reminder of who Stringfellow was, what he sounded like when he spoke, when he and Santini laughed."

He reached across the desk and took the pad of paper from her and glanced down at it. There were sixteen video files listed and under each one, a grouping of time stamps to start and stop. Looking back up at her, he nodded. "I'll see what I can do. Until such time when we no longer have to be so guarded with the information from her databases, we'll have to be careful what is released. So long as these clips have nothing considered 'top secret' in them, I don't see why you couldn't have a copy." He smiled gently, hoping she didn't take his censorship the wrong way.

She pursed her lips and nodded. "I understand." She stood up from her chair and stretched, "I better get home before Sam starts to pace a hole in the floor." Michael saw the hint of a fond smile color her features and then she was all business again. "Do you have a new list of scheduled times you want Sam and I here to begin training with Mike in the simulator?"

Michael nodded and grinned, sliding a piece of paper off the corner of his desk and handing it to her. "Let me know if any of these don't work due to filming or scheduling conflicts. We'll plan this out a month at a time and see how well you guys progress. And Red?" he asked as she took the paper from his fingers.

"Mmm?" she responded, looking up at him.

"Go easy on the guys. They've worked hard these past few months to master their functions within Airwolf." He gave her a quiet smile, trying to convey the sense that the guys were going to try and impress her.

Pursing her lips together to hold back the grin, she nodded. She gave a lopsided smirk as she folded the paper and stuffed it into her pocket. "Good night Michael. I'll do my best not to eat them alive," she said with a chuckle as she left his office.

* * *

May 17th, 2012

7:35 a.m.

Four sets of eyes looked up at the video screen in the observation lab. On it was a video showing a group of three helmeted individuals sitting in the cockpit of Airwolf, running through a difficult simulation. During one particular move the screen froze and a single blue eye looked back at the other three that had been watching. "Mike. What possessed you to deploy the chaff and starburst at the same time?"

Mike rubbed at his face, dark circles beginning to form under his eyes. A similar looking Sam sat next to him, though Red seemed a little better but her movements were beginning to be a bit sluggish. All three sat in their gray flight suits in front of the monitor, nursing cups of coffee. This was part of their team training. They had all been deprived of sleep for close to thirty-six hours, pushing towards forty-eight. They were learning how to work together under extreme duress and conditions to see how they responded to intense situations.

"I have no idea. Possibly because the system wasn't registering what type of missile had been fired and with it being so close to us I didn't want to deploy a sunburst and find out that it wasn't a heat seeker, or the other way around. So I deployed both just to be safe." He found himself babbling a little to try and come up with a viable explanation for something he'd done on instinct.

Michael gave a grunt in way of answer and pushed the play button to advance the video further. As they watched the resulting 'explosion', Red's cell phone began to vibrate on the table. Startled, Red nearly dropped her coffee cup and scrambled to silence it. Michael hated cell phones going off during meetings and for some reason Red had forgotten to put hers on 'silent'. As she cringed, the video stilled and the three men stared at her.

"Sor…," she had begun to whisper the apology until she saw the number that was calling. Looking up, her cheeks flushed a deep red and she pushed away from the table. "I have to take this." She hit the talk button but didn't answer until she'd stepped into the hallway.

Mike looked over at Sam who shrugged. "Could be Rachelle trying to reach her for some reason," Sam offered in a way of a possible explanation. "She does have a business to run since this isn't going to really pay the bills." He gave Michael a sheepish look.

Michael had opened his mouth to respond when Red hurried back into the room, her face pale and her pupils dilated with fear. "Quick! Turn on the news," she said in a panicked rush of words.

The three men stared at her for a moment until she gripped her phone, her knuckles white. "Please!" she nearly screamed, an underlying tone that sounded close to begging.

Startled, Michael fumbled for the remote and turned the video off before flipping through the stations until he came to CNN. A somber looking reporter sat behind the news desk, a live video, most likely from someone's cellphone playing in the background to her left. People in the video scrambled to and fro, some carrying bodies of children, others wailing in obvious sorrow while paramedics escorted silent, stunned children and adults, some displaying garish wounds to a row of ambulances. The banner under the reporter read 'Bombing Outside Strasbourg France Grade School'. The audio finally connected and the reporter was heard speaking in reserved tones.

'…not confirmed who is responsible for this horrific terrorist attack outside this Strasbourg private school but the timing appears to have coincided with the end of the school day. Locals tell us that some parents or guardians begin to arrive around 3:30 p.m. local time to pick up their children for the day. Most park in a side lot next to the school to keep the narrow traffic lanes open in front of the school. Our sources say that on any typical day, there could be anywhere from twenty to thirty cars waiting, sometimes more depending on the weather. Officials are now saying that two car bombs detonated within moments of each other within the parking lot, causing extensive damage to every vehicle there. Officials report that the cars appear to have been filed with small projectiles such as screws, nails and ball bearings. There are reports of shrapnel found imbedded in houses and buildings up to three blocks away. As you can see by this video, the school's windows have all been blown in and many of the children inside have suffered life-threatening injuries due to the blast. The death toll is not yet known as they are currently trying to assess the full extent of the blast radius but sources say that only two people parked in that lot survived but may not make it through the night due to extensive injuries. It couldn't have come at a worse time as children had begun leaving the school minutes before the car bombs detonated.'

"Shut it off…," came a choked, horse whisper, causing Michael to look at Red, unsure if the words had actually come from her. He saw sudden anger and rage flash across her face just before she screamed. "SHUT IT OFF!"

Michael quickly pushed the off button on the remote and stepped back involuntarily as Mike and Sam leapt to their feet, startled by the sudden outburst.

The room became deathly silent as Red stood with her head bowed, body trembling, with fists that clenched and unclenched to the point they could hear her joints creak.

"Red…," whispered Sam and Michael saw the nervous look he shot Mike. He could see the near terror of the unknown in his eyes and knew he'd never seen Red in such a state.

"My," she said in a near whisper. "My son was in that school. His father, Jacque, was waiting to pick him up, in that parking lot."

Mike saw Sam jerk as if he'd been punched, his face losing all color as the implications of her words finally registered.

Silence filled the room once more except for the sound of Red's rapid, panicked breathing. She remained stock still, her head still hung as if in shame.

His father's jaw clenched, sudden anger flashing across his features. Finally Michael spoke, his voice full of cold fury. "When were you going to tell us that you had a son?"

Mike could only watch as Sam went from terrified to hurt to angry. "What do you mean 'your' son, Red? Just when did this all happen and why have you never bothered to tell me about him?" Sam's voice rose in pitch as he spoke.

Her body jerked with each word as if it were a physical blow. She wouldn't look at them and Mike saw the realization hit his father that he truly hadn't known everything about Red. His biggest fear, that of something happening that could topple the whole house of cards, had come true.

"I can't do this right now. Adrien has been taken to the hospital and I need to get there as soon as I can arrange a flight. I…I have to go," she said in a strangled sob as she turned and fled the room.

The door shut with a soft hiss and the silence of the room deafening.

* * *

Michael stormed into his office, his limp more pronounced due to tense muscles and the fast pace he'd taken to get there. "Lydia!" he bellowed as he got to his desk, thrusting himself down in the chair only to stand back up and begin pacing.

She was entering the office just as he bellowed, "What is it Michael?" she asked, blanching at the look on his face. "What the hell's happened?"

Mike arrived in the office, now stripped out of his flight suit. He looked as though he wasn't sure what to make of everything that had just happened.

"Did Aluna ask you to do a background check on Jaque Marques and his son Adrian?" he snarled.

She blinked in surprise, "I've been working on it. I have plenty on Mr. Marques since he's a public figure but I couldn't find much on his son, other than he has a son and his name is Adrian. I figured it was due to him living a very public life and trying to protect Adrian. Adrian doesn't do much online. I can't find any type of Facebook account or photos of him anywhere. I was still in the process," she was cut off by the flash of anger on Michael's face.

"Miss Cheyenne Hawke failed to tell us that Adrian Marques is her biological son," he stated, slamming his fist down on the top of the desk for emphasis to his anger.

Mike jerked slightly at the sudden display of anger. He saw Lydia look his way as if trying to get confirmation that she'd just heard Michael correctly.

"What!?" came Lydia's response. "But when, I mean, how…?" She seemed unable to articulate her thoughts due to her surprise.

Michael snorted, "Most likely the same way any woman would have a child. I think more went on with her when she was stationed in German than even the military knew. Either that or she's very good at covering her tracks, better than I gave her credit for."

Lydia grew quiet as she thought, "How did this all come to light?" she asked, her tone becoming professional, controlled.

"During our review of the last simulator run, her phone rang. She excused herself and went into the hallway. She came back in a few minutes later and demanded dad turn on the news," Mike offered, trying to get some of Michael's fury redirected, perhaps focused. "The private school he attends was the target of a terror attack less than an hour ago. Two shrapnel filled car bombs detonated outside the school just as students were preparing to leave. His father is most likely among the dead parents who were waiting to pick up their children at the end of the school day."

Michael reached up a hand and ran it through his hair. His expression fell into one of sorrow filled anger and it reflected in his good eye. "She told us her son had been in that school and his father had been waiting outside in the parking lot when the bombs went off. I'm afraid we weren't very supportive of her when we realized the implications of what this meant and she excused herself, saying they had taken Adrian to the hospital and she had to find a flight to France as soon as possible."

When Mike mentioned the explosion, Lydia's hand flew to her mouth to cover her gasp. By the time he was done, she had grown pale, her eyes closed as she tried to focus her thoughts. "What do you need me to do?" she asked, opening her eyes and swallowing down the bile that wanted to rise from her stomach. She had to be Michael's rock at the moment.

With a deep exhale, he motioned to the phone. "I need MacGyver's phone number. I need to tell him about this because he needs to help Sam work through this. That was the worst way for her to drop that kind of bomb on her fiancé and I don't know what this will do to their relationship. I will need to ask MacGyver to bring Rachelle in on the loop of this information as her boss will be out of the country for an unknown amount of time."

He finally sat behind his desk and grabbed the remote. "I will need you to find a way to get Miss Hawke to France post-haste. I want one of our people to be an escort, someone who will blend in or is already there and can meet her at the airport. I want them to be there for protection if she needs it but also someone who won't have qualms about reporting things back to me directly."

Turning on the large screen, he flipped through the channels until he found CNN. He used a button to toggle the screen and brought up Fox News, then repeated the process a third time with MSNBC. He had all three on the screen together before he turned to look at Lydia. "Lastly, I need this to be kept under as tight of raps as possible. I do not want any of this getting back to The Firm. It'll be the sort of thing they'll be looking for to get control of her. Miss Hawke knows too much and could be forced into telling Zeus everything."

Mike knew a dismissal when he heard one and he quickly left the office, heading for the 'Gate Room'. Technically, this wasn't part of his job but his father had other things on his mind and someone needed to get the rest of the Guardian Angels that were stationed overseas, on alert. He was sure that most operatives working in Europe knew about the explosion but he knew his father would want a head count on everyone and to make sure they were all on guard.

As he ran up the stairs instead of taking the elevator, his mind flashed back to the video that had been on the news, the raw feed from someone's cellphone. The look of fear and terror on the faces of some, while others were in shock, running on autopilot. The worst were the children. He had no idea how Red had watched that video and flown apart in terror-filled rage. As he came to the top of the stairs, swinging the door open and stepping into organized chaos, he gave a final thought towards the woman. Where was she now and what must she be going through, unable to be there when she was most needed?

* * *

9:15 a.m.

It was MacGyver's day off, the first one in over a week. His old truck needed a new starter and he'd gotten up early enough that morning to get a head start on it so he could go pick up Rachelle for dinner that night. He heard his phone ringing but being under his truck at the moment, he wasn't able to reach it. He couldn't let go of what he was doing until he had the last nut in place. He knew the answering machine would pick up any messages left for him. If it had been the Foundation, they would have called the phone sitting next to his toolbox, within easy reach.

When the phone rang for the fourth time in ten minutes, he swore under his breath, shoved the last nut on the end of the protruding bolt and slid out from under the vehicle. Reaching into the passenger seat, he grabbed the cordless phone and managed to find the 'talk' button with his dirt covered fingers.

"What?" he nearly shouted into the phone, sounding flustered for being interrupted.

There was silence for a moment, "Mr. MacGyver? It's Michael Bridges. We have a situation." Something about the tone of his voice made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Is this line secure?" he asked on instinct.

"It is."

"What sort of situation?" he responded, shifting his weight in nervous dread.

"Due to a terrorist bombing at a school in France today, it has come to light that Miss Hawke has a son. He was in the school at the time of the bombing." The voice on the other end of the line spoke with clipped, precise words that brought forth images of the man being angry. Then the words sunk in.

"She's got a WHAT?" he yelled in the phone. "How the hell did this happen?"

Cold silence on the other end of the line made him pull up short. Finally, Michael responded. "I would assume how it happens with any woman who gives birth. When? We can only assume that it was during the time she was stationed over in Germany. MacGyver, the boy's name is Adrian. Jaque Marque's son. And from what Miss Hawke said before quickly leaving the room, he was most likely killed while he waited for their son to get out of school."

MacGyver stepped back, trying to find a place to sit before he fell over. "Jesus," he whispered. "Does Sam know?"

There was a slow inhale and exhale in the receiver before Michael answered. "Yes. They were in a meeting with me when she got the call. I don't think he took the news very well. He's disappeared but he hasn't left the building. Do you want me to put him on a flight to you as soon as we can get something arranged? Until further notice, the 'project' is on hold."

MacGyver could hear the underlying anger and frustration in the man's voice with that last statement.

"Yeah, that'd probably be for the best. Do you need anything else from me?" he asked, realizing he sounded hesitant.

"I need you to inform Rachelle about this since her boss will be out of the country for a time. I ask that you use the utmost discretion in how and where you tell her. The last thing we need is for The Firm to get wind of something like this, something they can use to get to her and possibly force her to talk about where our project is." There was a sound of resignation in Michael's voice as if he'd already made up his mind about Red's future involvement in all of this.

"Michael," he said quietly. "Don't say or do anything that could damage your relationship with Red. I'm upset about this as well. I would have thought that of anyone she'd tell, it would have been me. But she didn't and perhaps there was a good reason why she left Adrien with his father instead of keeping him with her, or bringing him to the States once she was retired from the Air Force. You know how she's an extremely private person. We have to remember that whatever her reasons, it all came undone in the matter of minutes. She's most likely lost a good friend, and the father of her son. Her son has probably lost his father and is injured though we've no idea how bad. Her closely guarded secret is out in such a public and jarring way that I'm sure it felt like someone'd punched all of you in the gut. Worst of all, Sam knows and if I know my son, he's going to feel betrayed and hurt. The love of his life just told him that she had a child by another man and he didn't know about it the whole time they've been involved. The fact that he lives with her and there's no evidence anywhere of this boy is going to make him feel betrayed and most likely resentful for a while until he can get control of himself and think things through logically."

Michael was silent on the other end of the line. MacGyver had very valid points and reasons but he too felt upset and betrayed. He knew he had no right to but he'd tried to stress to Red that if she had any skeletons in her closet she needed to come clean for the sake of the project. He felt betrayed that she hadn't. He was going to have to have a long talk with her once she returned from France.

"I hear what you're saying. It will take time to digest this and comprehend the full ramifications of this news," he said quietly.

"Michael, find my son and send him to me. Don't even let him pack a bag. Just send him here and I'll look after him. I'll talk to Rachelle for you when she comes over for supper tonight and I'll make sure she understands that she is to tell no one, not even Erica right now. I'm sure Erica will be heartbroken enough to keep her occupied when she finds out about Jaque."

There was a slow intake of breath heard on the other end of the line. "I'll send him your way. I can have someone go to their place and pack him some things after she's in the air. We can send them to you at a later date. If you hear anything, let me know. I'll do the same." After that, the line went dead.

Mac found the 'End' button and simply sat where he'd managed to find a seat earlier and hung his head. He looked back down at the phone and scrolled through the caller ID list. The first phone call he'd received had been from Red. The next two had been Sam.

* * *

Aluna had heard the entire exchange between Michael, his son and Lydia. She wasn't sure what to make of all of it at the moment. However, she instinctively knew she needed to find Red. Over the past few months of close contact with the young woman, she'd taken the time to truly study her and her interactions with others. She had slowly realized that Red had a heart like glass, easily broken if handled roughly. The cool, collected exterior was her armor, her shield – there to help protect the fragile internal workings of her soul.

Quietly leaving the office, she went in search of the woman who had won the hearts of most everyone she worked with on the Airwolf project, from techs to mechanics. Even Mark had finally given her grudging respect. She had a feeling she knew where Red had disappeared to and she hurried her steps down the stairs to the lowest levels where very few people went. There was a set of locker rooms there that was mainly for cleaning and maintenance staff. Red tended to use them when she didn't need to hurry between simulator time and anything else on her busy schedule. It was most likely because she could avoid the curious stares and averted glances at the scars across her body. At least if Aluna were in her shoes, that's where she'd go.

Opening the door to the basement hallway, she hurried along the concrete corridor to the far end where each side of the hallway held the door to a set of locker rooms. Pushing the door open a little, she peered in and tried to listen for any sign that Red was there. A slight noise that sounded like a stifled sob told her she had guessed right.

Slipping into the locker room, she turned and pushed the bolt home, locking the door to anyone else who might be looking to use the facilities. Walking carefully, she passed the row of lockers and then into the isle with the bathroom stalls. She saw no one but her ears picked up the sound of someone trying to stifle the sound of dry heaves. Moving past the bathrooms, she stepped over the tiled ledge into the showers. In the very last stall, kneeling next to the floor drain was Red, her back to the doorway.

Though the shower room was fairly warm Aluna could see Red visibly shaking, her arms wrapped around her upper torso as she tried to remain as silent as possible while she dealt with the emotional overload. Looking around, Aluna spotted the stack of clean towels next to one of the sinks and picked up two, unfolding them as she went back to where Red knelt. She moved up carefully behind the woman, prepared to leap back if Red became violent.

Gently, she draped the double layer of towels over her shoulders and tucked them in over her arms. She'd felt Red jerk upon contact but she gave no other reaction. Aluna knelt down next to her, putting an arm across her shoulder and drawing Red against her upper body. Looking down, she saw Red's phone lying on the white tile floor. The screen looked cracked from the angle. "Shhhh," whispered Aluna as she rubbed Red's arm.

Red had stiffened slightly when the older woman had pulled her in but after a moment, she couldn't keep up the stoic facade and slowly slumped, her body feeling numb. "God," she whispered, "what all of you must think of me." She inhaled and Aluna felt Red jerk forward as if trying to vomit, but nothing but the sounds of the pained contractions of muscles trying to force the contents out. Fortunately, there was nothing left so she dealt with the miserable after effects of the dry heaves. "I can't face anyone right now. I'm afraid to go back to the house because Sam…I don't think Sam wants to be anywhere near me. And I can't leave because there's no available flights to France until tomorrow night. I can't even hitch a ride on a transport through my Air Force contacts. I…None of my aircraft cane make it across the US and the Atlantic," she babbled, then paused as she fought through another round of dry heaves. "I can't wait that long to get there. My baby's all alone, in that hospital. Jaque's dead. He was Adrian's world and now he'll never see him again. They said Jaque's car was sitting next to one of the bombs. There wasn't much left." She paused and rocked forward, "Oh God," she whimpered as she tried to curl in on herself.

Aluna held to Red as she sobbed, her heart breaking for her. "Shhhh, Red. Take a deep breath. Michael told Lydia to get you the fastest flight to France, even if it has to be a private jet. We'll get you there, it'll just take a little time to get it all lined up." She continued to rub her arm, trying to get her to calm a little. "As for Michael and Sam, let me worry about them. Sam's got a good head on his shoulders. I'm sure he'll be upset for a while but if he's got some sense between his ears, he'll realize that you had your reasons for not telling him, and that right now, you need all the support you can get. As for Michael, he doesn't deal well with surprises, he never has. Just give him time. I'm sure once you explain things to him when you get back, he'll realize you had your reasons." She could feel Red's body relaxing minutely as she talked. "Besides, you need to focus on Adrian before you worry about what anyone else thinks or feels. He needs you now, more than ever. You have to be strong for him. If you think things have changed for you, just imagine what it must be like for him. He could end up moving to America to be with you, away from everything he's ever known and as you said, he's lost his father."

Red gave a hickuping sob as she sucked in a breath, trying to control herself. "Why would Michael try to help me? He trusted me to be honest with him and I betrayed him." Bloodshot eyes looked up at Aluna, surrounded by chapped, tear streaked cheeks. The poor woman looked miserable and it almost broke Aluna's heart to see her in such a miserable state. She'd never witnessed Red in any other way than a stoic, neutral expression, perhaps a smirk or slight smile here or a frown there but Red had never displayed any deep emotional outpouring…until now.

Taking the edge of the top towel, Aluna dabbed gently at Red's face. "Because Michael knows that if he didn't help, Lydia and I would make his life miserable and he knows it. But maybe it's because Michael has a son who lost his mother when he was little. He may not realize why he's giving help but I think it's because he's been in your shoes somewhat with suddenly finding yourself having to care for a child."

Taking a chance, Aluna urged Red to sit up a little, though she didn't take away the physical contact. "I get the sense that even though you've worked hard to keep Adrian a secret, you carry something of his on you." She prayed she was right. She knew there were some mothers out there that wouldn't give three straws about a child they had left in someone else's' care. But she sensed that Red might have done it to protect him, but even so, she would have perhaps carried something of his.

Red gave an almost imperceptible nod. With trembling hands, she picked up her cell phone and pulled the protective cover off of it. The screen was most definitely cracked but that didn't matter right now. Tucked up against the phone was a small, white square. When Red pulled it away, it was a school picture of a smiling young boy in a school soccer uniform. She handed the picture with a little hesitation to Aluna who took it gingerly. "Oh my! He's so handsome," said Aluna appreciatively. The boy was handsome and she knew that when he got older, he would steal the hearts of many young women. "He has your eyes and cheekbones." His skin color was a dusky reddish brown with black hair cropped short. He could easily pass as someone of Spanish decent but the facial structure was much like his mother's, showing the features more indicative of Native American decent. The package as a whole made for an almost exotic look. "You're going to have your hands full when he gets older," said Aluna in a light tone, a touch of motherly teasing.

With a slight hiccup and a wince at the sore stomach muscles, she nodded, looking down as if embarrassed by the compliment. "Were you serious when you said Lydia was trying to get me a flight?"

Aluna nodded. "Yes. I should go see how she's doing. Tell you what. Stay here and try to take a hot shower to help you calm down a little more and pull yourself together. Adrian's going to need you to be strong in the face of all of this." Standing up, she held out a hand to offer assistance to the younger woman.

Red took the hand with a touch of hesitation but allowed Aluna to pull her to her feet. "I'll bring you your gym bag with your clothes from yesterday and I'll see if I can't find you a couple of outfits that will fit you. The ladies around here always seem to have an extra set or two just in case. As soon as Lydia has confirmation of when your plane leaves, I'll come get you. With luck, we'll be taking you directly to the airport." Tentatively she brushed a strand Red's hair that had fallen loose, back behind her ear. "Just promise me you'll try to keep us up to date on what's happening?"

Red's cheeks flushed and she nodded.

Aluna looked down at the picture she was still holding. "Can I show this to Michael at least? I'll bring it back to you when I bring down your clothes."

The young woman hesitated, biting her lip a little. Old habits died hard but she finally gave a small nod. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Aluna ran her hand soothing down the back of Red's hair. "Just bring him back safe and sound. When you get back, you can sit down and talk with Michael about all of this. But right now, get yourself ready so you can be there for your son when he needs you."

* * *

10:02 a.m.

"Where the hell have you been?" snapped Michael as Aluna stepped into his office.

"Oh, so she's Miss Hawke again? Are you so worked up over this that you've begun to push her back into the 'formal' category?" Aluna stalked over to his desk. "And for your information, I've been with Red since you ordered Lydia to find her a flight."

Michael paced the floor behind his desk, his limp more pronounced. "I can call her any damned thing I want. She's screwed up so royally I'm contemplating cutting her from the program," he snarled.

"Maybe you should. Then she wouldn't have to suffer your condescending nature and arrogant tendencies. Listen to yourself Michael. How many times did String do something that could have ruined everything? Hell, I can name a few where you weren't doing so hot yourself and there were much higher stakes at the time than being discovered by The Firm. That place of ancient fossils couldn't find it's ass in the dark with two hands." Aluna was in rare form and she knew it. Her voice had gotten a little harder and a louder as if by being loud enough, it might sink into his thick skull.

He gaped at her, trying to come back with a snappy reply. "How," he started but was quickly cut off.

"I don't want to hear it. You don't see her as a 'woman'; you see her as Stringfellow Hawke's offspring, his true inheritor of his estate and his talent. You haven't bothered to notice that under that stoic, expression of hers, she hides a fragile heart. She wears that gruff exterior like a mask, trying to hide what's inside and shield it. Call it woman's intuition but you wouldn't be behaving like such an ass if you'd just seen how devastated she was. She's terrified that everyone will hate her because she kept a secret. She's sure that no one will want anything to do with her after this and that everything she's worked so hard for will be for nothing."

Michael snapped his mouth shut, realizing he'd let his jaw drop. In all the time he'd known Aluna, she'd only spoken to him in such a manner, twice.

"Michael, she knows she betrayed your trust. She's almost certain you won't want anything to do with her after she gets back, that you'll remove her from the program." She sighed softly, "Would you like to see what Adrian looks like?" she asked quietly.

The surprised expression his face told her he did and she held out the school picture towards Michael. "She had this hidden inside her cell phone case. By the way, she's cracked the screen, probably by gripping it too hard with all of the stress."

He took the picture gingerly and stared down at the smiling young boy posing in his school soccer uniform. He was speechless as he took in the features of the dark haired, dusky skinned youth. He could immediately see the hereditary features of String's side of the family. He had his mother's hair and a lighter shade of skin color. The strong shoulders and narrow hips, the firm chin must have been from his father's side. The package as a whole would be breaking women's hearts in a few years.

"He's a handsome young man," he said in a quiet voice. Then he thought about Aluna's words, 'if you'd seen how devastated she was'. He held the picture out to Aluna. A noise made him look up to see Lydia standing in the doorway with a black duffle bag and laptop case in one hand, and a folded sheet of paper in the other.

"Aluna," called Lydia. "I've put together some things for Red and here's her flight itinerary. I got her on a private charter and her plane leaves in an hour. Mr. Allard will meet her at the airport since he's on site and familiar with the area. His information is in her laptop case. I've sent his credentials to the local authorities and asked that he be allowed to monitor Adrian's status until his mother arrives. He'll give us any updates as needed. I've booked both of them rooms at the Toulon Cheatua until she either makes different arrangements depending on Jaque's estate or until she returns. She should arrive there in about tthirteen hours."

Nodding, Aluna took the picture from Michael and traded it to Lydia for the folded paper. "Get a quick scan of this and give it back to me. I promised I'd return it to her when I brought her a change of clothes." She reached forward and took the bags out of Lydia's hand before the woman disappeared into the other room.

Turning to look at Michael, she gave him a guarded look. "I've told Red that when she gets back, however long that takes, she's to sit down and talk with you, explain her side of things and her reasoning. When she does, you are to give her the courtesy of listening. Need I remind you that you were raised and trained to have manners. Use them. I would wait to make decisions on what you plan to do about her continued participation with Airwolf until you've had a chance to hear her side of things and make a more rational decision that isn't heavily laced with emotions."

Michael stared at the woman he'd loved for years, startled by her words. Aluna had stopped speaking when Lydia came back into the room with the picture. She stuck the picture with the flight information and moved towards the door before she looked over her shoulder at Michael. She gave him a steady look, "I believe Mike is upstairs doing your job right now. You might go relieve the poor boy since he's been awake for a day and a half." With that, she turned and left, preparing to send Red on a journey that would change the rest of her life.

 **TBC -**


	4. Chapter 4

**Greetings! Well, here's Chapter 4. Pieces of the puzzle have started to fall into place. I hope you enjoy. Please feel free to review. It feeds the soul of the writer. Thanks to Nighshade for being my beta and sounding board :)**

(Note: All conversations _in italics_ is supposed to represent people speaking in French. If there is a date and time underlined it means it is a Text Message conversation.)

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

5/17/12 4:23pm PST

F. Allard: Just arrived at hospital. Will take time to find people who can give me access to him.

M.B.: Keep me posted. Any word on extent of injuries?

F. Allard: Not yet.

M.B.: Any word on father?

F. Allard: Dead. Was parked next to 2nd bomb. Bad scene.

M.B.: Let me know when you get access.

5/17/12 7:19pm PST

F. Allard: In room now. He's on pain meds. Sleeping. On low priority list with cuts, abrasions and some shrapnel, not life threatening. Was in locker room far side of school. Got lucky. Injuries from flying glass and ricochets. Might have hearing issues due to blast. Don't know yet.

M.B.: Thanks for update. Her flight still on schedule to land 10am your time.

F. Allard: I will get her. Jackson to sit guard while gone.

M.B.: Good. Update me when you collect her.

5/17/12 9:35pm PST

MacGyver: Sam just arrived. Thanks for sending him this way.

M.B.: You're welcome. It's the least I could do.

MacGyver: Told Rachelle. She didn't seem surprised. Said she was too good with Erica not to have had practice, somehow.

M.B.: Thank you for taking care of that. Flight left at 12:55pm our time. Should arrive around 10am their time, 1am ours. Got one of my people meeting her there.

MacGyver: I'll let the others know. Any word on him?

M.B.: Guardian A. there. Got access to him. GA said kid was lucky. On far side of school in locker room when bombs blew. Has cuts from glass, shrapnel from ricochets. Low on priority list so got him on pain meds. Sleeping. Father confirmed dead. Car next to bomb.

MacGyver: Wow

M.B.: Will let you know when I hear more.

5/18/12 2:03am PST

F. Allard: She's arrived. Pilot said she didn't sleep. Looks like hell.

M.B.: Get her to the hospital. She probably won't sleep till she's seen him.

F. Allard: He woke for short time. Told him she was on her way. He seemed excited but asked about dad. Told him to ask her. He figured out why. Didn't take it well. Sleeping when I left.

M.B.: Let me know if she needs anything. Make sure she understands she's an official client and what comes with it.

F. Allard: Will handle things. Side note. J's business partner stopped by to check on him. Was the one who called to notify her of attack. Said J had plan in place if anything happened during travels for shows. Will find out more when she's here and can talk to him.

M.B.: Thanks for info

5/18/12 6:22am PST

M.B.: Heard from G.A. She arrived 2am our time. Pilot informed she hadn't slept. Was taken to hospital. Contact said he woke for short time and was told she was on her way. Seemed excited.

5/18/12 7:32am PST

MacGyver: Thanks for info. Will let others know. Sam's still sleeping. Probably will sleep for most of day. Was still worked up at 2am. Not sure how he's going to handle this in future.

M.B.: Not sure I can offer advice. Something they have to work out

MacGyver: Yeah, I'm at a loss of what to say.

* * *

May 18th, 2012

11:03 a.m. CET

Strasbourg Airport, Strasbourg France

The plane landed with a slight jar, bringing Red out of her exhausted daze from where she sat next to one of the jet's windows. The private jet was modestly fancy but she hadn't utilized it more than to freshen up in the bathroom and to drink a couple bottles of water from the mini-fridge. She managed to eat a handful of crackers but was afraid that if she tried to eat anything else, she might not keep it down.

Her stomach muscles still hurt from the dry heaves and her eyes felt dry. She knew she'd been dealing with a bit of shell shock for most of the trip since she couldn't remember much from the last 12 hours. They'd landed in New York for refueling but no one had disembarked and the stop lasted less an hour. She remembered the pilot coming back to inquire if she needed anything and to remind her that the chairs reclined back most of the way if she wanted to try to sleep.

As the plane taxied across the runway towards a large, private hanger, Red caught sight of the iconic Guardian Angels helicopter tucked in the back. She knew the plane must belong to the company but seeing something so similar in design to Airwolf here in a foreign country, was a touch jarring. Unbuckling her lap belt, she stood as the jet came to a stop, reaching up to remove her laptop case and duffle bag from an overhead bin. She hadn't bothered to look in either except to pull out the papers that Lydia had put in her laptop case. She'd done a quick scan of them to get the update on the escort that had been assigned to her and her hotel accommodations.

The pilot came forward, released the side hatch and lowered the door, creating the steps needed to disembark. She nodded politely to him, "Thank you," she offered as she turned to leave.

"My pleasure, ma'am," he responded with a tip of his cap.

Stepping onto the tarmac, she saw the man she knew to be Francis Allard. He was a bit of a short, stocky man with a neatly trimmed mustache and thinning hair but he carried himself in a way that told her he was very sure of himself. He was dressed in a pair of charcoal gray slacks, black shoes that looked comfortable but able to handle all types of terrain and still seem professional. He wore a light gray turtleneck with a casual sports jacket that matched the slacks. She was certain he was armed. He had been typing something on his phone when she'd first seen him but he put it in his pocket by the time she'd left the plane.

"Ms. Hawke?" Allard said as he stepped towards her. "I'm Francis Allard and I will be your guide and companion for the duration of your time here in France." His accent was that of someone who had been born and raised in France. He gave her a gentle smile and held out a hand towards one of her bags. "May I carry that for you?"

"Call me Cheyenne or Red. I," she seemed at a loss of what to do other than hold out her duffle bag to him. "Sure." She hesitated, unsure of what to expect from Mr. Allard. She knew she needed sleep if just being around someone was putting her on edge.

Taking the bag from her fingers, he motioned to her. "Follow me. I will take you to the hospital and fill you in on what I know along the way. Also I've been instructed to tell you that you're now an official client of the Guardia Angels Corporation and I will explain all that entails after you've had a chance to see Adrian."

She blinked owlishly at him, "I'm a what?" she asked as he turned and walked towards a waiting sedan. She took a couple of quick steps to catch up as she tried to comprehend what he'd said.

He didn't respond to her as he reached the car and opened the back door, indicating she was to sit in the back seat. She shook her head, "I prefer to ride up front."

He raised an eyebrow as he gave her an assessing look. "Very well," he replied and placed her bag on the back seat. Shutting the door, he opened the passenger side door and waited for her to be seated, watching as she placed her laptop case on the floor in front of her before shutting the door.

Once he had climbed into the driver's seat, he started the car, pulled off the tarmac and onto a side road. Red watched as the road moved away from the airport terminus and she looked back at Allard. "Aren't we supposed to go to customs, deal with passports and all that?"

He shook his head, "No. It has been taken care of already. Mr. Bridges didn't want you to be exposed to the reporters and media arriving to report on the attack and also wanted to make sure that only the people who needed to know you were here, knew. It's one of the side perks of being an 'official client'," he offered with a toothy grin.

She looked at the man then shook her head perhaps in exasperation before looking back out the window. "I don't see why he's even bothering with all of this. We didn't part on the best of terms."

Allard shrugged, "I do not try to understand my orders unless they contradict previous orders or endanger my client." He drove up to one of the side gates where a security guard stopped him. Allard seemed to expect as much and rolled down his window, handing out a few pieces of paper and a passport. The guard gave them a quick look then went back to his guard shack and consulted a clipboard. While they waited, Allard looked over at her. "Parlez-vous français?"

Red looked at him with a bit of a raised eyebrow but remained silent. The guard returned and handed the papers back to him. "Ouvrir le coffer," he directed.

With the push of a button, the lock disengaged on the trunk and the guard walked around to it, lifting the lid and giving it an inspection before shutting it. He came back to the driver's side and bent down to look at the two of them. Red turned her head to give him a full view of her face before he nodded. "Procéder." The guard stood up and stepped away from the car, waving it through the security gate.

Red was quiet for the next mile until they reached one of the major roads. "Mon français est correct. J'ai eu un peu de pratique pendant les onze dernières années."

Allard looked at her for a long moment and then smiled. "Good. At least I won't have to translate for you."

She gave a slight nod. "Do you have any information on how Adrian is doing?" She felt her heart speed up as if afraid to hear the answer.

"I do. Again, it helps to be a client of an exclusive security firm. It also helps that Jaque's business partner, Kurt, had paperwork for the hospital to give you Power of Attorney over Adrian. I have been sitting with him since 8:00 last night local time." He paused to glance at her and saw her face pale and her fist clench.

"Is there anything that hasn't been done, seen to or taken care of?" she asked, looking flustered and sounding a bit frustrated.

He raised an eyebrow, "Like I told you, you are an official client. It comes with perks. We are set up to handle these sorts of things. We know how to navigate systems since we have to be aware of the laws or doctrine of a particular area. Guardian Angels staff have to be able to move quickly and securely through things such as checkpoints, hospitals and handle other security companies, police or military without causing issues."

Red swallowed, her heart feeling like it was attempting to hammer itself out of her chest. She had screwed up so royally with Michael she was surprised that he hadn't had her escorted to the door by security and dumped on her ass into the street. Yet he or his staff had made sure she had gotten to France as quick as possible, circumvented customs and had made sure to have someone on the ground locally, go to the hospital and oversee her son's care until she could arrive. She couldn't fathom why he would do all of this. The expense would be steep and strings pulled or favors called in.

"And my son?" she asked, trying to clear the lump in her throat that had formed there.

Reaching into a jacket pocket, Allard pulled out a couple sheets of paper. "Here's his recent report. He was a very lucky boy." He held them out to her and noticed her hands had a slight tremble when she took them.

He moved through traffic a she read over the papers and he could see her visibly relax. Folding them back up, she looked out the windshield at the city beyond. "You said he was a lucky boy. Why do you say that?"

"He was on the opposite side of the building from the parking lot when the bombs exploded. Apparently he was changing out of his soccer uniform and was in the boy's locker room. When the bombs went off, he had three rows of lockers between him and the inner hallway wall. If it hadn't been for those lockers, he and the other three boys that were in the locker room with him, would have been much worse off."

Red gave a shudder at the thought of how worse it could have been. "Do you have any idea of how long before they can operate to remove the shrapnel he was hit with?" she asked, her eyes moving to watch him indirectly.

He shook his head. "He's on the lower end of the list. Since what he was hit with isn't causing him life threatening injuries, he's down towards the bottom. I wish I could say he'd already been taken care of but with the amount of casualties, injured and damage that was created, everyone's being assessed by severity and prioritized."

She nodded, swallowing again. "As long as they can make him comfortable, I suppose I'll be content for now. I just fear about his wounds going septic or getting infection internally."

"They've got him on a dose of strong antibiotics and have at least cleaned and bandaged the wounds. They were able to remove a few of the shrapnel pieces but the deeper ones have been covered and are being monitored." He grew quiet as traffic became heavier. "Do you have sunglasses?" he asked as he fished around in the door pocket and pulled out a tan scarf. .

Red nodded, "Will aviator glasses work?"

He pursed his lips, "Here, put this on around your head. Think 50's Hollywood style. I'll let you borrow my darker glasses for now." He handed over the scarf and she looked at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"What's this for?" she asked, hesitating.

"When we pull up to the hospital checkpoint, there will be hundreds of reporters, spectators and cameras being kept away from the building where most of the injured were taken. Anyone that pulls up to the checkpoint will be scrutinized by the onlookers and you'll end up having your picture taken whether you like it or not." He gave a slight huff. "Bunch of vultures," he growled.

She took a few minutes to get the scarf wrapped around her head and the longer end flipped over her shoulder. "Why do you say that?" she finally asked. She looked down at herself, realizing she was wearing her leather flight jacket, her last name on a patch on the left side of her chest. Unless it was extremely hot, she always wore it since it helped with concealing her sidearm.

Allard noticed her glance down at her jacket. At the next stoplight, he reached behind her seat and pulled out a tan raincoat. "Take off your jacket and put this on. I know you have a concealed weapon under there."

Red shifted in her seat and pulled off her jacket, exposing the holster attached to her belt at the small of her back. She slid into the raincoat and knew it was one size too big for her but she did her best to take up the slack. Once the car started forward, she found a pair of dark glasses held out in front of her. She took the glasses gingerly and put them on. "How do I look?"

"Like Grace Kelly," he said giving her a gentle smile. "It'll do for now."

She blinked behind the dark glasses and then gave a little snort, her lips showing a hint of a smile.

"Just let me do the talking for now until I can introduce you to the staff attending the floor Adrian is on," he offered as a last piece of advice just as they pulled up in front of the barricade to the hospital surrounded by several hundred people.

Red looked over towards Allard as he came to a stop at the checkpoint. A police officer approached the window, possibly recognizing the sedan from before. As Allard took care of the paperwork to allow them entrance, she took a glance around, using her eyes more than her head to watch the chaos around the hastily erected fencing to keep the public away from the victims inside. She saw the flash of cameras taking her picture so she made sure to stare straight ahead, minimizing the visibility of her profile. She heard people screaming questions at the police, wanting to know who was in the car as well as questions yelled at them through the car windows.

Red turned her head minutely and read the well-wisher signs that were secured to the chain link fence. Flowers were shoved into the fencing, candles and balloons, along with stuffed animals of every flavor were lined up along the base. Several of the signs had Jaque's logo on them with sentiments such as 'We will miss you!' or 'You're in our hearts' scrawled across them in French.

Within moments, the paperwork was returned to Allard through the partially opened window. The officer motioned for the gate to be opened, allowing them entrance. He moved the car forward as soon as there was room to pass. "It's gotten worse as the day's gone by. People have begun to arrive from around the world. You'd think they'd have other things to do than stand around trying to gawk at people coming and going." He turned the car down a ramp that led to an underground parking garage and began looking for an available spot.

"I have to warn you to watch every step, every word, every interaction you have with people if you value your privacy. Though you may have known Jaque, he was a bit of a celebrity here in France. Most people around here knew who he was and knew he had a son. The information is now public and those people who are avid fans are trying everything they can to find out which kid is his and anything they can about him," he said, grimacing. "The local authorities have had the hospital staff sign confidentiality agreements and are under strict orders to remain quiet about anything involving the bombings and their patients. Inevitably someone will talk but for now, everyone's too busy trying to save lives to worry about spilling information. It's only a matter of time."

Red groaned and slid down a little in her seat. "Oh God. Michael will have a conniption over this." She wondered if there was some way they could smuggle Adrian out and take him somewhere less public. She knew he was in the best place at the moment so she would leave him where he was.

Allard pulled into an open parking space and motioned for her to get out. " _Leave the scarf and glasses on until you get into his room. Take your laptop case with you and I'll bring your duffle_." As soon as he was out of confines of the car, he began speaking in French. He pulled out her jacket from under the seat and put it in the trunk.

She realized he'd begun speaking the local language to help them blend into the background better. She'd follow his lead until he indicated otherwise.

As they walked towards the elevator, he spoke to her quietly. " _Like I said, let me do the talking until staff are properly notified who you are. Also, we'll have to get off this elevator into the main hospital area and get another elevator to take us to where he is. I'll warn you that if you've never seen a triage hospital dealing with something this massive, it can be shocking. There are still people on gurneys out in the hallways that are waiting to be assigned a room or taken to surgery. It's controlled chaos and somewhat overwhelming to anyone who's not been around such things before._ "

Giving him a slight nod, she stayed as close to him as possible. No matter what he'd told her before they'd gotten off the elevator, nothing could have prepared her for what she witnessed. The sounds of crying, moans of pain, the shouts of medical staff up and down the halls as one emergency was attended to before being drug away to another. She noticed that no one paid them any attention as they waded through the mass of family members, patients, government officials, police and staff to get to the elevator that would take them to the upper levels.

When they stepped off the elevator and into the 6th floor hallway, the chaos was notably less. Nurses moved quickly up and down the hallways while people sat in chairs outside of rooms. Allard led her to a room towards the end of the hallway and nodded to a dark skinned man, sitting outside a door, dressed in similar colors. " _Any changes?_ "

The man shook his head, " _Nope. They went in and changed his bandages about half an hour ago and I think he's dozed off again._ "

Allard nodded, " _Thank you. Ms. Hawke, this is Jackson, my backup._ "

She nodded politely as Jackson stood. " _Thank you_ ," she offered as Allard opened the door to the room and motioned for her to enter.

" _I'll go talk to staff and then I'll be outside if you need me,_ " Allard whispered to her as she entered.

Nodding absently, she paid him no more attention as the sight of her son in a hospital bed dew her like a moth to a flame. She heard the door close quietly behind her as she went over to one of the two padded chairs in the room, setting the laptop case in the seat before divesting herself of the scarf, glasses and raincoat. She felt almost naked without her leather jacket to cover her sidearm.

The sound of a heart monitor was the only noise heard in the room. He looked so small in the large medical bed, surrounded by electronic monitoring equipment. He was sleeping but the dark circles under his eyes told her that it hadn't been peaceful and the pain he must be in was wearing on him.

As quietly as she could, she stepped up to his bed. Her eyes grew moist as she realized she hadn't seen him in over a year and pictures didn't do it justice. He'd grown so much since the last time she'd seen him when Jaque had rented a small ocean-side cottage near one of the more exclusive California beaches. It was a little more than a year ago, giving Jaque and Adrian some place to stay while he worked on the filming of one of his chef challenges. She'd taken every opportunity she could to spend time with them for the month they were in town. She had come so close to telling Sam and MacGyver about Adrian several times just so she could be around him as much as possible without having to feel like she was sneaking around behind Sam's back. In the end, she'd decided to continue keeping it her secret as that little voice in her head told her it wasn't safe for others to know.

Looking him over, his right arm and shoulder were bandaged, his arm made immobile due to the wrappings. He had a bandage covering part of his head and the other exposed skin had small nicks and cuts most likely due to flying glass. His right leg had been wrapped and elevated on a pillow under the covers.

Reaching out carefully, she touched his left cheek, mindful of the small cut under one eye. She tenderly stroked the skin with her thumb as she tried to imagine what he must have gone through.

A small moan came from him and he stirred. " _Papa_?" he whispered, his voice sounding raspy.

" _No Adrian. It's your mother_ ," she said in a voice that shook with emotion. She could feel the tears welling up, as she knew she wasn't the one he was searching for.

His slowly opened his eyes opened and she saw his pupils dilate slowly, indicating they had him on a heavy dose of painkillers. " _Ma'ma_?" he said, his words sounding slurred.

" _I'm so sorry_ ," she said, trying to keep control of her voice. " _I tried to get here as soon as I could._ " She felt several tears slide down her cheeks. " _Mr. Allard told me how brave you've been._ "

His left hand reached up to try and touch her face and she leaned down to be within his reach. His fingers traced one of her tears. " _Don't cry ma'ma. Papa would be sad if he saw you crying._ "

She tried to smile at his words, though several more tears escaped down her cheeks. " _He will have to forgive me for a few tears. I weep for joy you're safe and weep for sorrow that your papa isn't here to be with you anymore_." She leaned down and kissed his forehead gently. " _I was so scared I had lost you when I heard what happened._ "

He smiled sadly, " _I'm still here, ma'ma. I won't leave you since I have to stay to take care of you._ "

With this simple statement, she came undone. A heartbroken sob escaped her throat, tears flowing freely down her cheeks as she watched him drift back to sleep. She held to his hand before it could drop away, holding it against the side of her face as she wept. It took a few minutes to get herself under control again, finally letting his hand rest on top of the covers.

She watched him sleep for several long minutes before moving to the small bathroom to wash her face and rinse her eyes. Looking in the mirror above the sink, she grimaced. She looked horrible, dark circles under her eyes and the white's looking bloodshot. With a quiet sigh she went back to Adrian's bedside and pulled the other padded chair to the side of the bed. Sitting down, she leaned forward and crossed her arms on top of the mattress. She laid her head on her arms facing Adrian and watched him sleep for a while. Sliding one hand free, she laid it over his heart, secure in the knowledge that he was alive and his heart was still beating strong. Within moments, she was drifting to sleep.

* * *

5/18/12 9:52am PST

F. Allard: I'm sending you a picture. They've been this way for two hours.

Michael had spent part of his morning reviewing information Lydia had given him on the attack. The French Government had released information about the attack, the damage and the number dead. It came with a set of speculations about who was responsible though it hadn't been narrowed down to one group yet. No one had stepped forward to take credit for this terroristic act. Yet.

Aluna had just walked in, bringing him another report from one of their global headquarters when his phone gave a soft chime. He shifted his attention to the phone, picking it up and unlocking the screen. He read the message, seeing Aluna out of the corner of his eye, watching him speculatively.

A moment later, the phone chimed again and he poked the screen to open the file. The picture had been taken from the doorway of the hospital room, showing the bed that Adrian slept in. Half of his body looked like they'd tried to make him into a movie mummy and even from this distance, he could make out a few of the deeper cuts on his exposed skin. The boy was obviously asleep on the right side of the bed and to the boy's left, he noticed that Red was sitting in a chair. She was leaning towards the bed with one arm folded under her head as a pillow, the other hand resting carefully on his chest, just over his heart. She was facing away from the camera and towards Adrian, but the thing that caught Michael's attention was the boy's hand resting on top of his mother's head. He got a sense that the boy was trying to seek comfort from the contact, as much as Red was with him.

Aluna raised an eyebrow as he gave a soft little huff, his version of an amused chuckle. "What is it?" she asked politely. The talk she'd had with Michael the night before seemed to have changed his demeanor for the most part. She had reminded him that he wasn't perfect either and that he had hidden Mike's existence from everyone. It must have gotten through his thick skull because this morning, she'd found a beautiful bouquet of roses and tulips sitting on her desk.

He looked up at her and then turned the phone for her to see the picture. She took it from him and studied it for a moment before a smile crept over her face. "I think she'd be embarrassed to know someone caught a picture of her like that."

Michael shook his head, "I don't think so. Maybe upset that someone got the picture in the first place, but not embarrassed." He took the phone back from her when she held it out to him.

"Question is," Aluna asked, getting Michael's attention again. "How well is she going to sleep like that? She needs the rest but when was the last time she ate?"

Rubbing at his mustache, Michael nodded and focused on his phone again, carefully typing a message back to Allard.

5/18/12 9:58am PST

M.B.: Thanks for the pic. Good to see she's getting sleep. Was asked to find out when she ate last. She got sick after news of attack. Hadn't eaten for several hours before that.

F. Allard: Pilot said she had water and crackers on flight.

M.B.: Try to get her to eat. Never eats enough.

F. Allard: When supper is delivered, will wake her to eat. Staff says she can stay if not in the way. May not need hotel right now. Don't think she'll leave unless he's with her.

M.B.: Do what you can to make her take care of herself.

F. Allard: I'll try. Don't know if I'll succeed.

F. Allard: BTW, she speaks very fluent French. FYI

M.B.: Interesting. I wonder what other languages she speaks.

5/18/12 10:01am PST

M.B.: Sending you photo taken by GA. (attachment)

5/18/12 10:22am PST

MacGyver: The saying of picture worth a thousand words is true with this. Thanks for sharing. Any other news?

M.B.: GA says she hasn't eaten since yesterday morning our time except crackers. Told GA to make her eat when they bring supper.

MacGyver: Ha! Good luck to him.

M.B.: Don't I know it.

* * *

5/19/12 11:16am PST

Ironhorse: Hope things are well. Sent email to your GA account. Give me your opinion.

5/19/12 12:35pm PST

C.H.: Got email. Are you sure I'm allowed to continue work on this?

Ironhorse: Of course. Why not?

C.H.: MB was pissed when I left. Not sure he wants me still on project.

Ironhorse: Don't worry about MB. Can't keep you from your legacy. Not when whole lab wants you back.

C.H.: Don't want you guys in trouble over this.

Ironhorse: Luna had talk with him. He might have been upset but he's worried for both of you. He might not say it but I see it in his face.

C.H.: A's sleeping. Will review with feedback and send when done.

Ironhorse: Good. Anxious to see what you think.

C.H.: Thank you for everything

Ironhorse: May the Great Spirit be with you.

After Red got the text message from Dr. Ironhorse, the head lab tech working on the integration of the new software system and mechanics within Airwolf, she pulled out her laptop for the first time since arriving and logged in through the Guardian Angel's private server. When she opened her inbox, she was surprised to find that she had twenty-two new messages since the 17th. Most of them were notes of support and well-wishes for her son. They were all from the people she'd worked with at Guardian Angels from the mechanics to the lab technicians.

There was even an email from her physical therapist and torturer, Mark. He reminded her to at least do her morning stretches. He even gave her a list of several basic exercises she could do standing in place in the hospital room, to help keep herself from letting the stress of the situation ruin all of his hard work. She'd smiled at that.

Another of the emails was from Lydia. 'Red, I'm praying for your safety and for your son's quick recovery. If you need anything, and I mean anything, just let me know. You're probably settled for now and I'm sure you're in a holding pattern, waiting. If you haven't found it already, look inside the interior pocket of your laptop case, tucked deep in the left corner. You'll find an encrypted flash drive. Hopefully what's on it will give you some distraction. Make sure you take care of yourself and make sure to eat something. I know you too well. –Lydia'

Before looking at the most recent email from Dr. Ironhorse, she reached into the pocket and dug around. She found the small drive that was about half the size of her pinky finger. Curiosity getting the better of her, she plugged it into the laptop and waited for it to initialize. A dialog box popped up and two words were typed above an answer box. 'Call sign'. She thought about it for a moment. Taking a chance, she typed in 'Red' and hit enter. The dialog box turned red and gave a warning, 'Incorrect phrase. Two more attempts before lockdown.' Chewing on her lip she typed 'RedOtter' and hit enter.

The dialog box disappeared and a file window opened, showing her a video file named 'History'. She double clicked on the video file and let it load, running off one of the pre-installed video applications. What greeted her were the video clips she'd requested from Michael several weeks prior. Someone had been editing the video to make it smooth and seamless by putting in small descriptions of where the clips had happened, when and the name of whoever had been in the cockpit besides Dom and String. The video was almost an hour long and she found she couldn't look away as it played, nor did she want to stop it to read Ironhorse's email just yet.

When the video ended, she felt her heart thumping harder in her chest. Lydia had taken a risk sending the flash drive with her. She stared at the blank screen for a few minutes then finally shook off the sense of overwhelming gratitude so she could focus on the last email from Ironhorse.

'Cheyenne, it has been discussed among the techs about changing up the flight helmet. It will still have a similar look and feel as you are accustomed to but we had thoughts about making the visor a full heads-up display. Attached are some digital renderings of ideas the techs have come up with. Please review them and give us your thoughts. Also, if you have ideas or something you've always wanted when flying in the Air Force and think it might be something to look at, let us know. –Ironhorse'

She blinked. To be honest, she'd really never considered incorporating certain aspects into the visor of the helmet. She still liked using her eyes for most of what they did, but she had to admit, the technology was now available to allow them to integrate several of the systems into a heads-up display.

Red began opening the files he'd sent, making notes on each one and returned the email several hours later with thoughts, questions and a few suggestions. By the time she closed down the laptop, it was already after midnight locally. She knew she'd finally be able to sleep for at least a few hours though she had to admit, that sleeping sitting up was not all that comfortable. As she slid the other chair closer to her so she could prop her feet up in it and stretch out a touch, she reflected back that this wasn't the first time she'd slept like this, and it wouldn't be the last.

* * *

May 20th, 2012

9:02 a.m. CET

" _Ms. Hawke, we will take good care of him and once the surgery is over, will bring him back here after he has awoken in recovery. The surgery should be no more than four hours_." The head nurse had come to Adrian's room so she could wheel his bed into the hall and with the help of several orderlies, down to the surgical ward.

Red looked the woman over and then nodded. " _Thank you. Take care of him_ ," she said quietly. She watched as they pushed Adrian out of the room and then followed them into the hallway. He tried to raise up to look at her one last time before they entered the elevator and he gave her a little wave.

She returned his wave and then felt herself take in a shuddering breath as the elevator doors closed. She stood there for a long moment until Allard approached to stand next to her. " _Ms. Hawke. If I don't get you to take some time to take care of yourself, headquarters will have my head on a spike. Staff said you could use the shower room behind the nurses station. No one is currently scheduled to use it_."

He held out her bag and she looked at it and then at him. " _I insist madam. I have also ordered you a meal to be delivered by Jackson once you are done. There is nothing you can do right now so it is time to take care of yourself._ "

She flushed softly, " _Sorry. If you're stressing about this, I must be quite offensive to your nose and look a mess._ "

He shook his head, " _No. I know you have taken care of yourself to a point but I have been strictly instructed to 'encourage' you to take some time for yourself since you have no other obligations at the moment. You have not eaten enough in the past two days to be healthy._ " He smiled as she took the bag. " _Besides, I'd like to keep my head where it is_."

This caused Red to smirk, giving a soft laugh. " _Fine. I will do as I'm told so you will not be verbally dismembered before your time._ " Taking the bag, she headed down the hall to the shower room. For once, this floor of the hospital was quiet as things had finally begun to settle and the less injured patients were attended to.

The water from the shower was surprisingly warm and she took a few minutes to just stand under the spray, hoping it would wash away some of the tension she felt between her shoulders. Other than moving about the room, up and down the hallway, doing her morning stretches and the few exercises Mark suggested, she hadn't done any serious exercising since the morning before the attack. That had been four days ago and she could tell she was paying for it as her muscles felt stiffer than usual and sore from her being stressed and tense.

After getting out of the shower, she rummaged a little deeper into her bag to see what Lydia had packed her. She was mildly surprised to find a nice pair of jeans and amused to find a white fluffy sweater with extra material around the neck that hung down somewhat across her collarbones.

Before she left the room, she stuffed her dirty clothes into one side of her bag, absently wondering if she could find a way to get her clothes laundered. She hated the thought of leaving, but she might be forced to go shopping for another set or two of clothes to last her during her stay.

As she stepped into the hallway, Allard was waiting at the end of the hall. He nodded in approval and motioned for her to give him the bag back. " _I will make sure Jackson returns it tomorrow with freshly washed clothes._ " He motioned for her to follow, ignoring the startled look on her face. " _Come. Jackson has brought you a hearty meal and expects you to eat it before he leaves._ "

Upon entering Adrian's room, she discovered that the cleaning staff had been in and the place was cleaned, sanitized and orderly once again. She found Jackson standing next to the mobile bed tray where he'd set out a bowl of steaming soup, a flank of roasted salmon on rice with a side of carrots waiting for her. " _Sit, eat_ ," the darker man demanded.

Having no other choice, she sat and began to sample the offerings. The food was excellent and she had to admit that she was hungry. Hospital food was hospital food no matter what country you were in. She could tell Adrian wasn't impressed by it either when he'd managed to eat something.

She finished enough of her meal to satisfy the two men standing watch over her. She flushed, wondering exactly what Michael had told them or even threatened them with to make them watch over her like this. " _Let me guess, this,_ " she indicated the food and pointed towards her duffle bag, " _is part of being an exclusive client._ " She raised an eyebrow as Allard simply grinned as they cleaned up the left-overs and departed.

Looking at the clock, she still had at least two hours until Adrian was supposed to be out of surgery. She could only pray that as soon as he was on the mend enough, she could take him back to the States and away from here. She had watched out the window from time to time at the media circus down below and read the local paper while Adrian slept, seeing how the death of Jaque Marque had caused many in the world to mourn his loss. And then, there was the question about which child was his. Adrian had been admitted under a different name for his protection. It was a good thing that he had since it seemed the press and Jaque's fans would almost stop at nothing to find out who this mysterious kid was.

As she contemplated the last few days, feeling better due to the shower and food, a soft knock sounded on the door. Turning, she saw Allard escort an older man into the room and Red recognized him immediately. " _Kurt!_ " she exclaimed and moved to give him a hug. " _I'm so glad to see you. I'm sorry about Jaque and everything you're probably having to go through since his death._ "

Kurt looked to be in his mid-sixties, though he had a full head of salt and pepper hair, handsomely styled. He wore a toned down version of his normally professional attire and she could tell by the circles under his eyes that he hadn't slept well in some time.

He returned her hug and patted her on the back before releasing her. " _I came to give you an update and some information._ " He went over to the bed table and set down the thin briefcase he'd carried in with him. " _I don't want to take too much of your time but Jaque had always been a planner and had made arrangements for the possibility of something happening to him. He was adamant about keeping them up to date since he traveled quite a bit due to his show._ "

Red nodded, knowing some of what Jaque had arranged since he'd talked to her about it the last time they'd been face to face. She'd known Kurt from her time when she had first come to Germany with the Air Force. Jaque had introduced Kurt to her on her third night eating at his restaurant. The older man had owned the smoke shop downstairs and was owner of the building where Jaque had his first big restaurant. The two had been friends for many years and that friendship carried over into a partnership once Jaque began to make a name for himself. Kurt took care of the legal side of things as well as scheduling and organizing Jaque's shows.

" _I wanted to thank you for helping out Mr. Allard with Adrian's paperwork. It made things smoother for both of us_ ," she offered as she waited for him to open his briefcase.

He nodded. " _Adrian is a good boy. I can't imagine what he's going through with losing his father. But at least you were able to be there for him and that is sometimes all that matters._ " He unlatched the case and pulled out a stack of papers. " _These are Adrian's documents, his school grades, medical records, dual citizenship papers, birth certificate and passport. Other than what records he will have from his stay here, it should be up to date with his immunizations and so forth. As you know, Jaque made you Power of Attorney to his estate if something should happen to him and named you Adrian's official guardian so there would be no questions later on about who was to care for him._ "

Red swallowed and nodded, taking the papers and looking through them for a moment. Kurt pulled out another stack of papers. " _Jaque never owned any property and preferred to rent. Most of the furniture was part of the rental property so there is little fuss involved with needing to find people to move his belongings. Adrian's stuff is to be boxed up so it can be delivered to wherever you decide to move, whether here in France or back in America. There are a few possessions he wanted Adrian to inherit and also a few things he wanted you to have. It's all detailed in his Will, here_ ," he said, tapping the top of the papers.

Kurt continued, as if trying to get everything out in the open as soon as possible. " _His restaurant will continue since I own the building and manage the business. He made sure that was part of the agreement. It does a steady business but it will give me security in my older age and give me something to do to keep me occupied._ " He smiled tiredly as if what he'd just said was a private joke between himself and Jaque.

She nodded, " _Good. You need something to keep you out of trouble_ ," she said with a faint smile. She sobered some when she continued. " _Did he leave you anything to run the restaurant with? Funds or investments?_ "

Kurt nodded, " _He did. That was part of the agreement. I'm to get control of the few investments he had, along with half the checking account once all expenses are paid. He has an accountant who will oversee dispensing of any bills, handle any insurance issues and the closing of the rental property. Once everything is settled, he'll distribute the remainder of the funds. Jaque also set it up so that seventy-five percent of his life insurance was to go into a trust fund for Adrian. When Adrian turns twenty, he will get fifty percent of it and the remainder when he turns twenty-five. The other twenty-five present of the life insurance is to go to you in helping raise Adrian."_

She blinked, " _I,_ " she said, trying to formulate words. " _I'm glad he was thinking of such things but honestly I'm fairly well off and am capable of handling any expenses for Adrian._ "

Kurt nodded, " _I know. Jaque and I would often talk about you and your growing success with the Air Service. However, it was still his wish that you would receive these funds to help with anything that either of you might need._ "

Red flushed softly, " _I see. It sounds like he thought of everything. What about a funeral or a memorial for Jaque?_ "

The man suddenly looked very tired, " _No. He despised the thought of being stuck in a box in the family crypt. He wanted his remains cremated and no fuss made over him. The sad thing is, they had to cremate him anyway. The bomb_ ," the man blanched and stumbled to a halt.

She frowned slightly, " _I'm so sorry Kurt. Please, you don't have to tell me. I've seen pictures of what was left of his SUV. That was hard enough. I don't want to think about the rest of it._ " She grew quiet for a moment before finally asking, " _What does he want done with his ashes then?_ "

Kurt smiled sadly. " _Put with his parents in the family crypt._ "

Though it might have been thought of as inappropriate at such a time, she quickly put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile and keep from laughing out loud. When she could collect herself, she dropped her hand, though her smile turned a little sad. " _So he doesn't want to be put in a box in the family crypt, but he'll allow himself to be put in a jar,_ " she paused, " _In the family crypt._ " She shook her head sadly, " _He always did have a good sense of humor._ "

Kurt nodded and she sighed, looking down at the papers in her hands. " _I'll leave the rest to you and as long as his wishes are met, there's no rush on the money. I hope that his restaurant continues to do well and keep you out of trouble,_ " she said, smiling sadly at him as she rested a hand on top of his.

" _You're a good woman Cheyenne. Though you two never loved each other more than friends, he loved you in his own way for being the mother of his son and for being the good friend you were. I know you had your reasons for leaving the boy with him and he never resented you pursuing your career in the Air Force. But there were times he was saddened by the fact that you couldn't always be there for the special events in Adrian's life._ " Kurt looked at her and she could see how much it hurt the man to say those words to her.

She pursed her lips and nodded, fighting back the tears. " _We did what we thought was right. Now it will be my turn to wish that Jaque could be there for Adrian, to see him go on his first date or to his first dance, to see him become the soccer star he wants to be or honestly to succeed with anything he wants to pursue._ "

With a nod, Kurt gave her hand a squeeze and shut his briefcase after handing her the remaining copies of the legal documents for Adrian and the Will. " _I have your number Cheyenne. I'll call when I have any new updates. I will try to stop by before Adrian leaves to say my farewells_."

Red nodded, " _He'd like that,_ " she said as she saw the man out. She got the feeling that Kurt was going to have a hard time in the future dealing with the loss of his good friend and business partner. She hoped for the best with him keeping the restaurant open and prosperous but only time would tell.

* * *

5/21/12 12:52pm PST

C.H.: Bridges, I'm sending a document your way. I hope it will help you understand why I never told anyone about him.

M.B.: I'll keep a look out for it. You ok?

C.H.: I'll live

M.B.: That's now what I'm asking.

C.H.: I know. But I can't honestly answer you because I don't know.

M.B.: Let me know if you need anything.

C.H.: You've already given more than you should have. Hate hospitals. Hope our stay isn't much longer

M.B.: I understand.

Michael put the phone down when it seemed evident there would be no reply. It was the first time he'd heard from Red since she'd left five days ago. Allard had kept him up to date on the boy's progress; when he'd gone into surgery, when he'd come out and the results. The most recent from Allard was a short video he'd taken through the window in the hospital room door. Red was sitting on the edge of the bed, her laptop on the bed table with Adrian sitting up next to her. They were obviously watching something that had him excited and pointing at the screen, asking questions. He'd seen her smile and look down at him as she answered him, then she pointed to something on the screen as if explaining whatever he'd asked about.

Allard had also sent him information on how bad the media and spectators were around the hospital, all trying to find out which child was Jaque Marque's son. He'd winced at the thought of how exposed Red must feel even though Adrian had been admitted in under an assumed name. Michael could only pray that he was on the mend enough to be released soon before someone on the staff talked. He hoped for Red's sake it would be soon since Allard said she hadn't left the hospital since arriving.

As he mused over the thought of how Red hated hospitals he heard his desktop inbox chime, letting him know he had a new correspondence. Moving the mouse over to click on the email, he reviewed the document she'd sent. He felt his stomach clench as he read the short message that came with the attachment.

'M, I was informed that this is the correct documentation to allow your corporation to have access to my lock box at the First National Bank in downtown LA. Inside the box is a thick folder with CB71-1Y330 printed on the outside. Please handle the information you find there with utmost discretion, as it's the reason behind my 'hiding' Adrian's existence from everyone. R'

"Lydia," he said, raising his voice to be heard as he printed off a copy of the permission form to get her started on retrieving that file.

Walking in, Lydia made her way over to his desk. "You hollered?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"We need to get to the LA office by tomorrow morning," he said as he stood and handed the paper to her.

She took a moment to review the document, her eyes growing a little wide before looking up at him. "This number is standard file coding for the FBI," she started, then paused. "This can't be good."

"My thoughts exactly. I want you to get to the First National Bank before noon tomorrow. I want to see what's in this file of hers," he said, pacing over to the window to stare out at the mountains.

Lydia looked back down at the paper and then back up at Michael. "All right," she replied, not bothering to try and dissuade him from going to LA. She was just thankful he was having her retrieve it, and not insisting on doing it himself.

Michael paced a little in front of the window. He hoped that this was the last secret behind the mysterious Cheyenne MacPhearson/Hawke. He thought about how she seemed to attract trouble. If he didn't know that the things from Red's past were true, he'd have thought someone was writing a bad fiction novel.

* * *

May 24th, 2012

7:36 p.m.

A knock on the door startled Sam, who looked up from his laptop where he'd been editing photos for Rachelle. He glanced over at his dad who had stopped what he was doing in the kitchen to look towards it. Seeing that Sam wasn't moving, Mac moved to the door and opened it.

On the other side of the doorway stood Michael with a briefcase in one hand, and his cane in the other. He was dressed in a button down shirt with a light colored jacket over it and jeans. "Michael? What are you doing here?" was the first words startled out of MacGyver's mouth.

The one-eyed man gave a wry smile at the question then nodded towards the interior of the house. "May I come in?"

Stepping out of the other man's way, Mac opened the door a little wider. "Sure. I was just finishing up in the kitchen." As the other man entered, Mac shut the door and looked Michael over. "Have you eaten yet? I could heat up some of the eggplant parmesan I made tonight."

Michael shook his head, "No. Though it sounds delicious, I ate earlier." He nodded to Sam who was still staring at him from over his laptop. Moving over to a chair that looked little used, Michael sat down and put the briefcase on the coffee table in front of him.

"As to what I'm doing here, I've recently been given access to several puzzle pieces to our mysterious Cheyenne Hawke," he offered as he worked over the combination of his briefcase. He saw Sam's shoulders hunch a little and he seemed to take refuge behind his laptop screen.

MacGyver moved around to sit on his sofa across from Michael. "Oh? And you brought them all the way to LA for us to see?" The expression on his face was a little incredulous.

"Actually they were here in LA. Red gave us access to a file that she had stored in the lock box at her bank. I decided to travel with Lydia to our local headquarters to deal with a few items at the local level as well as get a look at what Red had given us permission to access," replied Michael as he opened the lid of his case.

Sam finally closed his laptop and got up to sit next to his father. He had yet to say anything and his expression was guarded.

Michael wondered if Mac had had a chance to have a heart-to-heart with Sam yet. He pushed it from his mind for the time being and pulled out a large, thick envelope that had seen better days. The corners were worn thin and the flap that was held shut with a rubber band that looked like it might fall off at any moment. Shutting the top of his briefcase, he set the envelope on the top of it and looked over at the two sitting across from him.

"MacGyver, when we had lunch you mentioned Red had been finger printed somewhere before meeting you, but when Jack had inquired he discovered that it was a sealed file." Michael watched a thoughtful look cross Mac's face before the man nodded.

Opening the flap on the envelope, Michael reached in and drew out a thick stack of documents. "Did Jack ever say where the fingerprints were taken or by whom?"

This had MacGyver's attention. "All he could find out was it was in New York. But there was no department or information that accompanied it other than it was a 'Sealed and Purged' case."

Michael nodded, "That's what I thought," he said as he thumbed through the stack of papers. "Now to fit the missing puzzle piece to that particular mystery. It was done at the New York branch of the FBI."

"The FBI?" questioned Sam, speaking for the first time.

Michael raised an eyebrow at the young man as he slid several sheets of paper out from the pile. He handed one of them to MacGyver while holding back the other. "Meet Joe Pincolo, now deceased crime boss for the Cantallo Family out of New York. He was on the FBI's most wanted list for over ten years until 1987 when someone provided enough evidence to put him away for three life sentences. He died six months ago in solitary confinement." The picture was a mugshot of a handsome middle-aged man of Italian decent.

Mac looked the picture over and then handed it to Sam. Michael was holding out the second sheet of paper to MacGyver. On it was a mugshot of a kid that at first glance was hard to tell if it was a girl or a boy. Stringy dark hair hung down to just below the chin, the clothes looking worn and dirty, even with the picture being in black and white. The kid's face sported a black eye and a large bruise on the opposite cheek, causing it to swell, and was holding a nameplate that stated the date, October 12, 1987, with an ID, the name Daisy Ferguson under that with the date of birth listed as December 6th, 1974. However, the eyes that glared at the camera were all too familiar.

"Meet Daisy Ferguson, aka Cheyenne MacPhearson," stated Michael as Mac gawked at the picture.

"What the hell happened?" MacGyver was finally able to ask.

Michael sat back in the chair as Sam took the picture, his face growing pale. "I spent the last twenty-eight hours going over every single piece of paper in this file as well as doing some research on what was listed in the newspapers. That young lady right there is the reason that Mr. Joe Pincolo was serving a three lifetime sentence in a maximum security prison. And, that young lady also has a standing 'kill' order out on her head, with instructions to kill anyone related to her. I don't know if the order still stands with Joe Pincolo dead, but with crime families, who knows."

Mac's hands came up to rub down his face. "Jesus," he whispered.

One blue eye looked over at Sam, then back to MacGyver. "Remember what you told me about her having a photographic memory and how she didn't want anyone to know?"

Removing his hands from his face, Mac closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "Missing pieces of the puzzle and the picture isn't pretty."

Michael rubbed at his mustache. "Indeed." He shifted and leaned towards the stack of papers, looking for something again. "After finding out about this, I decided to have Lydia get in touch with our contact within the Air Force. It took a little time because it's been over twenty five years since Sue and Richard MacPhearson were enlisted." He handed the photocopy of news article to MacGyver. "February 1986, Operation El Dorado Canyon, Sue MacPhearson died in a crash of an F111 that was shot down over Lybian Air Space. She was the co-pilot on that mission. The US has never been able to retrieve their bodies though there is photographic evidence that the Lybian's had their flight helmets. One was caved in on the side and the other looked like the front had been melted off. There is no doubt that both are dead." He held out a copy of a picture that showed a photo of several Lybian's totting around the helmets.

"Richard MacPhearson was reported for going AWOL shortly after the notification of his wife's death and later dishonorably discharged. Records indicate that he'd pulled Cheyenne out of the local school and other than some missing clothes, pictures and suitcases, everything else was left abandoned in their home just off-base." He grew quiet as he let MacGyver's and Sam's imaginations run with that bit of information.

After a minute, he continued. "With what we know about Cheyenne, we started to assemble a timeline to track what we could over the course of the next several years. Sometime between March 1986 and October 1987, Richard MacPhearson began working for the Cantolla Family doing who knows what. According to the case-file records, he was under the assumed name Andy Ferguson. He'd somehow managed to get fake ID's for himself and Cheyenne. Agent Tompkins, who was the leading investigator of this case, reported that during a raid on the building where the Cantolla Family ran a chop-shop, they picked up both Red and her father. I won't show you the pictures but they found her with bruising over a third of her body of varying stages of healing. She wouldn't tell them who had beat her but she was adamant that it wasn't Richard."

Michael watched as Sam looked like he might be sick and was probably remembering the video he'd seen of her interrogation. "She was being prepped to be sent to juvi when she managed to convince Agent Tompkins that she had evidence against the Cantolla Family but she would only deal with him if he let her and her father go or protect them somehow after the confirmation of the evidence. Tompkins made a note in her file that it was the first time he'd taken a twelve-year-old seriously. After getting a search and seizure warrant, Tompkins and two other agents raided their apartment and found the evidence Red had hidden inside her mattress. Six video tapes and over one hundred pages of hand-written notes, all of which were replicas of paperwork she'd seen while working at the chop-shop. The videos were from a video camera she'd found and used to record meetings between key individuals from the rafters overhead without them having a clue she was there. When she finally convinced Agent Tompkins that she really did have a photographic memory, they had enough with what she'd provided to put Joe Pincolo away for life and then some."

The room grew silent as Michael came to the end of the 'short' version of the story. He sat back in his chair and watched the two men across from him. MacGyver seemed to be to be mulling over the information while Sam looked upset. Leaning forward, Sam put his face in his hands, his elbows propped on his knees.

Finally, MacGyver looked up at Michael. "What happened after that? How did she end up in LA?"

Michael shrugged. "The end of the record had a note that Richard, with Cheyenne, were sent off to Minneapolis around May 1988. After that the FBI record ends other than a copy of the 'kill' order for both of them under their assumed names." Michael stretched out his bad leg and set it on the edge of the coffee table. His face became pensive as he fiddled with the edge of his mustache. "I can only speculate at this time that her need for keeping everyone at a distance, and hiding Adrian's existence stems from her fear that if the Cantolla Family ever found out who she really was, they'd go after anyone she was connected to."

MacGyver leaned back into the sofa, his head rolling back to look up at the ceiling. He groaned and put an arm over his eyes. "Oh god," he muttered.

Continuing on, Michael worked to get through the rest of what they'd found. "We dug a little deeper, but after finding nothing on Cheyenne, we followed Richard's record. It appears they spent almost a year in Minnesota, where he'd been arrested once for drunk and disorderly conduct. It appears they moved to Seattle around July 1989. Between July 1989 and March 1990, he was arrested twice for public drunkenness and vagrancy. The third time he was arrested, it was for DWI. His blew a .20. That was March 3rd, 1990." Michael grew quiet, his eyes focused on his bad leg. "He died two days later in jail of 'mysterious' circumstances. His file states that one of the inmates had overheard a heated argument between Richard and someone else in the cafeteria with words like, 'crime family', 'Ferguson' and 'reward'." Michael saw MacGyver wince.

"The police investigated who'd been talking to Richard and it lead to an individual that had been released from jail two days after Richards death. They were never able to question him about his conversation though," stated Michael as he finally raised his eyes to look at the other two.

Sam finally sucked in a breath and raised his head. "Why?"

"Apparently he was in such a hurry to inform someone about what he'd done, that he was traveling at a high rate of speed when he slammed into a parked semi-trailer and decapitated. That was less than half an hour after he'd been released from jail," Michael answered, keeping a straight face though a malicious part of him wanted to grin. A little voice whispered that for someone like Red, rigging the car to lose control wouldn't be too terribly difficult. But there was no mention of foul play so it was only speculation at best. "Thing is, a records check on the guy showed he was a former member of a crime family out of New York." Michael swiped at his mustache.

Michael took his bad leg off the table and began to gather up the paper's he'd handed out. The room was silent as he worked to put everything back in the dilapidated envelope then slide it into his briefcase before locking it. Taking a hold on his cane, he levered himself up out of the chair. "And with that, gentlemen, I take my leave of you. Make of it what you will but keep what you learned here tonight between us," said Michael with a quiet sigh.

Before he could move too far away, Sam was up off the couch and moving towards the door. "Thank you for coming over with all of this," he responded, sounding a touch sheepish.

Michael stopped and looked at Sam. "I know what she did felt like a betrayal to you. But remember, both your dad and I have been through something similar. Granted, our 'surprises' were our own offspring but it doesn't change the fact that your dad and I know a little of what you're going through."

Sam hung his head a little. "It still hurts."

Switching the briefcase to the hand that held his cane, Michael put his free hand on Sam's shoulder. "She's still the woman you fell in love with. She's only human, like all the rest of us. We all make mistakes. We all make bad judgement calls. We now know some of her reasoning for her keeping silent about her son. She's stubborn to a fault at times but I've seen the way she looks at you when she thinks no one's looking. Her features soften and her expression opens a little more. It's a look of gratefulness and love. It's kind of cute actually." He saw Sam's cheeks flush at those words.

With a final pat to Sam's shoulder, he switched his briefcase to his free hand and he prepared to leave as Sam opened the door. "They're scheduled to fly back on the 3rd. If she's even remotely like her father, the first place she'll go is the cabin to escape and regroup. If you think you can forgive her for the secrets she kept, give them a day to settle in and give me a chance to talk with her, perhaps ease some of her fears. If you're not sure you can, ask yourself what you would have done if she'd told you from the moment you two re-connected, about Adrian. Would you have still been willing to be a part of her life and a part of his?" Michael turned and stepped outside. "And Sam," he said, pausing on the doorstep.

"Yeah?" Sam's voice sounded uncertain.

"Above all else, remember she's just lost a good friend and one of the very few people she allowed to get close to her. You're also a part of that 'inner circle', those she considers family. If she were to lose you too," Michael said, leaving the rest unspoken. He honestly didn't know how Red would react if Sam wasn't willing to accept this side of her.

Walking down the stairs, Michael made his way to the sedan parked out front, the driver opening the door for him. Sam felt his father's hand on his shoulder as they watched Michael leave. His thoughts raced with the last words Michael had spoken. He knew he had to come to terms with what he now knew about Red and perhaps why she'd made the decisions she had.

 **TBC -**


	5. Chapter 5

**Read and enjoy! Please feel free to send reviews. They are always welcome!**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

June 3rd, 2012

6:26pm PST

The jet set down on the runway at the VanNyes Airport outside of LA. It was still a couple hours until sunset but Red was anxious to get Adrian loaded into the Guardian Angels chopper so they could head to the cabin. She didn't want to see Rachelle right now, and at this time in the evening, there was no guarantee she would have left yet.

As the jet taxied towards the end of the runway, Red looked at Adrian who was sitting in the seat beside her. He looked tired even though he'd slept a majority of the trip here. His arm was still in a sling but he had almost full range of motion now that the incisions to remove the shrapnel had begun to heal. He still had a bandage on his forehead and several around his leg to keep the pressure on the healing incisions. Reaching over, she ran a thumb down his cheek, while her hand caressed the side of his head.

"One more short flight and we'll be at the cabin," she offered. She refrained from calling it 'home' since right now she wasn't sure what the future held for her. She had a business in Reno and would be spending most of her time there, but she still wasn't sure what Michael's response would be on the whole situation. He may have decided he wanted someone else to fly the Lady. If that were the case, she would continue renting the house they were currently in through the end of the lease at the airport before moving operation somewhere else. She wasn't sure if she could handle being so close to something like Airwolf and yet be denied the chance to fly her.

Her brain circled around those thoughts for a moment. Even if Ironhorse made it sound like there was no threat of that happening, it still all boiled down to one man's decision. That man had trusted her and she'd betrayed it. She hadn't been forthcoming with information on Adrian when asked if there was anything that might endanger their work.

Adrian watched her face as she contemplated their possible future and gave her an uncertain look, "Do you think Sam will meet us there?" he asked cautiously in English.

Looking down at him, she stroked his hair before pulling away. "Honestly, I don't know what to expect. I know you'll like him if you get to meet him," she answered, trying not to hope too much.

When Adrian had begun feeling better and stayed awake longer since the reduction his pain medication, they had talked for several hours about his future here in America. Adrian had known about Sam since Red had often called or written letters, keeping Adrian and his father up to date on what was going on in her life. It had been hard for her to explain to Adrian why she had kept others from knowing about him but she felt he was old enough now to know the truth. He had listened and asked questions, wanting to know what life had been like for her as a child. As she told him, he appeared to grow more upset until she'd finally asked him what was wrong. His answer had almost brought her to tears.

' _Because even though you could not always be with me, I have a better life than you did. I'm sad for you. It's not fair._ '

Red had shaken her head and smiled sadly before responding, ' _Just because I didn't grow up with my real parents doesn't mean I had no one to love me. Life is never fair Adrian. Yes, it was hard after Sue died. Richard tried to take care of me but his sorrow made him drink too much. He became weak-willed, unable to resist disappearing into a bottle to drown his sadness. But I met people along the way who helped me when I needed it most and helped me become the person I am today._ '

He'd given her a hug and seemed intent on holding her hand for the rest of the day. She was there to comfort him and yet with all the sorrow of losing Jaque, Adrian still tried to protect her. She had cried that night after he'd fallen asleep, remembering what he's said as the overwhelming feelings of guilt coursed through her.

By the 28th, the staff had prepared to release Adrian from the hospital and thankfully, Allard was there with news that they would be air-lifted out to avoid the crowd still on vigil outside the hospital. It had dwindled down to only a handful of reporters and spectators remaining as people began returning to their homes and businesses to continue with their lives.

After being released from the hospital, the Guardian Angel helicopter had taken them to the exclusive hotel that had been previously reserved for them. After Adrian had slept fairly well that night, Red had asked him if he wished to go home to collect some of his things. He had been excited and yet saddened by the prospect, saying he didn't want to go by himself. Allard and Jackson had told him that they would be there to help as would his mother. Looking back on the time they were in the house, it was one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do. She knew she had to be strong for her son but Jaque loved pictures and there had been constant reminders of their time together over the years. There were pictures of Jaque with Adrian at outings and doing things together. It drove home the point that she had missed so much in his life and Jaque would no longer be there for either of them.

Kurt met them at the house and helped sort out the things that Jaque had specifically said he wanted Red to have. There were a few other things Kurt insisted she take, things that had no real meaning for him or anyone else, but might for Adrian someday. This included all of Jaque's pictures except for a select few that Kurt wished to keep. By the time they'd left, Jackson had procured a number of sturdy cardboard boxes, and promised to wrap and box the items up that had been set aside. He would have them delivered to the jet that would take them home.

They left after giving Adrian some time alone with his father's things even though the boy was exhausted and hurting still from his injuries. They spent the next three days at the hotel and Kurt had come by with the final papers she needed to sign from the accountant. Red and Adrian had gone to the Marque family crypt to allow them a chance to say good-bye. Kurt had taken time away from packing up Jaque's belongings to attend the small, private memorial they'd held. By the time she and Adrian had left on the 3rd, Jaque's remaining things had been boxed up and sent off to the benevolent society or in the case of some of his cooking gear, donated to a charity to auction off. One small box of miscellaneous things was delivered to the hotel for Allard to take to the jet. Ten boxes currently sat in the jet's luggage hold with plans to have them stored until she figured out exactly where she was going to stay for the future.

It had been a very long flight with several delays due to weather and Red was very glad to be back in familiar territory. As they disembarked the jet, their new Guardian Angel met them at the chopper. He was tall, lean with a mop of sandy blonde hair and green eyes with a smile that was warm and genuine. Red felt her shoulders relax a little as he spoke.

"Ms. Hawke, I'm Matt Conner. I'll be Adrian's main security from now on as needed. I've been instructed by Samantha of the L.A. Guardian Angels branch office to lay low until such time as you decide where you wish to set up permanent residence." She blinked up at him and it took a moment for her brain to catch up with what he was saying.

"I'm not even going to ask where you're supposed to be staying at the cabin. I think you'll honestly get very bored hanging around. But, it's your job. You're the professional here, not me," she said, almost having to yell the final few words as the chopper engines fired up and they were guided to sit in the back before Matt loaded their suitcases and her laptop case secured in the hold.

Adrian looked nervous and Red handed him a headset before putting hers on. Once he had it situated, she showed him how to trigger the mic. "Don't worry Adrian. I think you'll really like it at the cabin. We'll get you settled in tonight and if you feel up to it, we'll do a little exploring tomorrow."

He worked the toggle and his young voice came over the radio, "Ok, ma'ma." He sounded as nervous as he looked and she put a hand over his, giving it a light squeeze.

"We'll make this work, no matter what happens with Sam or anyone else," she said quietly to him as the helicopter took off and she felt him clutch her hand tightly then gave a nod in agreement.

* * *

As the helicopter banked left to move further along the lake, the large houses that took up one end with their ambient exterior lights gave way to blackness as they flew further on. Red nudged Adrian and pointed out to the dark, "All of this land is ours," she said as she felt the chopper begin to slow its speed.

Taking the final turn that would deliver them to the landing dock, Red stiffened slightly at seeing the cabin lit up with the soft glow of lights. A small curl of smoke rose out of the chimney since at this elevation, there was still a chill to the evening air and a small fire would help dispel the worst of it. It could only mean that someone was here, waiting for them.

There were no other aircraft on the dock or near the cabin so Red couldn't pinpoint who was inside. As their chopper came in to land, Red unfastened Adrian's harness and pointed to where he was to hang up his headset. She took care of getting herself unstrapped and divested of the bulky headset before turning to see that their escort had already opened the door and was pulling out their luggage.

Red nodded her thanks to him, took the offered bags after she climbed out and handed the smaller one to Adrian. She shouldered her laptop case before taking Adrian's hand and walking along the path to the cabin. As they walked in the dark, she heard her son gasp and stop. Looking towards him in alarm, she realized he was looking upward. She followed his gaze to see the blanket of stars, unhindered by the lights of the city. She smiled down at him.

"Do you like to look at the stars?" she asked, trying to remember if they had a telescope in the cabin for star gazing. If not, she might be able to talk MacGyver into acquiring one.

"There's so many of them!" he exclaimed as he rotated his head from side to side to get a full view.

"Didn't you ever see stars in France?" she asked curiously.

She sensed Adrian shrug, "Some, but never this many. Only the really close or bright ones."

"Ah, well there are no city lights here to disturb the view, and you're in the mountains, closer to the sky. It lets you have a better view," she said as she too looked back up, just in time to see a shooting star.

She felt Adrian clench her hand and point, "Ma'ma, ma'ma! I saw a falling star," he said, almost whispering.

"Quick!" she whispered as she leaned down as if to impart a secret. "Make a wish."

He grew quiet and then she felt him shift next to her. "I made a wish."

"Good. Now keep that wish close to your heart." With that, she gave his hand a tug and got them walking towards the cabin.

As she opened the front door, she absently noted that the whole place looked cleaner than she'd left it. Everything appeared dusted and polished. As she tried to wrap her brain around the fact that someone had cleaned the cabin, a sound from the kitchen caused her to turn and face whoever had invaded her home. Standing next to the stove was Michael, stirring something in a pot. He looked over at her, the light reflecting off his good lens and smiled. "Welcome back," he offered.

Red felt Adrian hesitate with uncertainty as she moved them further into the cabin so she could shut the door. Looking down at Adrian, she motioned for him to set his suitcase down and she followed suit. Once she'd put down her laptop case, freeing up her hands, she pulled off her leather jacket helped Adrian off with his since it was still painful for him to move his arm too much.

Once she had hung them up on the coat rack, she motioned to Michael. "Adrian, I'd like you to meet Michael Bridges. He was a friend of your grandfathers. They worked together for a number of years on a special project. He's also the owner of the Guardian Angels security company that Allard and Jackson work for."

Adrian stood close to her side and she put an arm around his shoulder. He gave a little wave to Michael. "Hello," he offered but said nothing else.

She looked up at Michael, a touch of challenge in her gaze. "Michael, I'd like you to meet my son, Adrian."

Michael had stepped from around the counter and Adrian took in the blackened lens and the cane. " _Good evening Adrian. It's very nice to meet you. You must be very tired from your trip. And since your mother is a lousy cook, I've made vegetable beef stew and fresh bread for supper if you're hungry,"_ Michael said in flawless French, giving Red a teasing smirk to take the sting out of the 'lousy cook' comment.

Adrian looked up at his mother with curiosity, "You can't cook?" he asked.

She shook her head, blushing slightly. "Not really. I can make coffee and tea without ruining it and can pour milk on cereal. I can heat up food that's already made but that's about the extent of my cooking ability. I'm much better at fixing engines and flying. Cooking has always confused me," she mock whispered the last sentence to him behind her hand.

A look of sadness passed over Adrian's features and she knew that he was thinking of his father. To distract him, she looked over at Michael with a slight smirk of her own then looked down at Adrian, "Don't let Michael fool you. He'd like you to think he knows everything. He used to be a super-spy. He can speak several languages and is too cunning for his own good."

Adrian's eyes grew round as he looked back at the man.

Michael for his part, rolled his one good eye heavenward and shook his head as if exasperated. "I prefer the term 'intelligence agent'. But leave it to you to spill all my secrets with a few simple words," he said jokingly. "Now I'll have nothing to surprise the kid with."

"Oh, I'm sure you can find something," she offered and then motioned Adrian forward. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up and I'll show you where things are. Michael won't mind setting the table while we get settled in for the night," she said, giving him a look that said she was fully aware she knew what he'd been up to.

Michael just snorted as Red directed her son towards the main floor hallway.

* * *

9:56pm PST

Most of the lights were out in the cabin and only the lights that illuminated the paintings around the cabin and a table lamp next to the couch gave off enough light to see by. The fire had burned down some and was mostly a bed of coals. The light they gave off illuminated the man sitting in a chair next to it.

The cabin made little noises as the heat of the day seeped out of its timbers and the cool night air replaced it. One of the classical records that had been in String's collection played in the background, the volume set low. Red had changed out of her clothes and pulled on an old pair of sweatpants that said Air Force down one leg and an oversized sweater that belonged to Sam. She sat on the sofa, a half full glass of wine in her hand. She sat with her feet tucked up on the couch, the edge of a blanket covering them as she stared at the coals, waiting to see if Michael would start.

Adrian had nearly fallen asleep at the table and Red had gotten him tucked into what was now 'his' bedroom. It was obvious that Michael had hired someone to set up the small guest bedroom downstairs into a place any boy would love. It held a rustic looking bunk bed with a matching desk set underneath it. Off to the side was a matching dresser and bookshelf to finish off the set. There was a computer set up on the desk and a box of Lego's on a bookshelf that held a few more toys and games, along with a selection of books.

She stared down at her glass, watching the liquid inside slide from one side to the other as she tipped the glass. She felt on edge as if waiting for the axe to fall. She did her best to look stoic and unaffected by the silence, watching Michael from the corner of her eye as he stared into the burning coals.

Several more minutes went by before she gave up on the game of silence. She was too tired to be playing these games tonight. Sam hadn't been here to greet them and she wasn't sure yet if that was a good or a bad thing. With a quiet sigh, she looked up at Michael and spoke. "I won't apologize for what I did Michael."

He turned his face towards her, his body shifting slightly to give the sense that his full attention was on her. "I'm not asking you to." He brushed a finger down his mustache and watched her for a moment. "I understand now why you didn't tell me about your son. I just wish that we had gotten to a point where you trusted me enough to ask for help with that situation."

Red blinked at him, then furrowed her brow in confusion. "I didn't ask for help because I didn't need help. I have been careful to cover my tracks and to minimize my digital 'footprint'. I've done this because I've always been afraid someone will get a hold of my FBI file in New York or someone that worked the case would talk. Only a few people with the FBI knew my real name." She took a sip of wine, hoping it might sooth her frayed nerves a little. "To everyone else I was a dingy, dirty Hispanic looking kid who could work a wrench and had small hands to get into little places."

Michael shifted in his chair, "Red, did you know that the man you helped put away died six months ago?"

Red's eyes grew wide in surprise, "No, I didn't."

He nodded a little, "Granted, I don't know if his death would void or cancel the 'kill' order on you but it probably doesn't make it top on their priority list. But I still feel you should have come to me with this information. I could have had my people put feelers out to see if anyone was still looking or even cared. That was twenty-five years ago."

She shook her head, "The more people that know, the greater the chance is that someone might find out the real name of that dingy kid. With a little digging, they could find out that the 'spy' that got their favorite crime boss thrown in prison for three life sentences, is actually a retired Air Force Major who now owns a flight service in LA with a branch in Reno. Dig a little deeper and they'll find all the properly filed paperwork for my name change and it's not hard to put pieces together to figure out who my biological father was. It's not hard to put the dots together once you have a name."

Michael was shaking his head. "Do you realize how hard it was for Mike and myself to put together what few pieces we had on you? Hell, even The Firm doesn't have that much on you and they play dirty when it comes to getting information."

Rubbing at her forehead, she hunched up a little, making herself seem smaller. "Michael, you've been officially 'dead' for over twenty years. I know you've got a team of people to cover your tracks, to do things for you without drawing attention to the puppeteer behind the curtain pulling the strings. But I never had that luxury. I had to learn how to hide myself from the world. I had to be invisible and leave very little paper trail. I don't do anything online. I only have two emails and one of those is through your private server. Once I was out of the Air Force, I didn't have an email account until we finally had a system for the Stars and Stripes business. That allowed Rachelle to bring the company into the 21st Century but also to allow her to email me documents for my review. No one has that email but her and she has instructions not to give it out to anyone. I was able to keep up with Adrian because I actually had access Jaque's email account and would log in as him to send letters to Adrian and see pictures of him in Jaque's online picture folder. I pay any bills I might have in cash or with a check. I don't pay or buy anything online with a card. I've never even had a credit card until I owned a business. I don't have a house loan. I don't have an auto loan. The house in Reno is rented through the company. Everything with the business is under the business name with Rachelle's information as the manager. Only the documents filed with the State have my name on them as the owner. I've done everything in my power to stay off the grid. It's become second nature. I don't take chances if I can help it. Thank God most of my other records, like my school papers and my adoption documents, are all on paper tucked away in some storage box or long gone."

He stared at her for a moment. Since Mike had done most of the research on Red, along with what The Firm had on her, he'd never truly understood how secretive she was. He tried to wrap his brain around someone barely having an online presence in this day-and-age. Perhaps that was why there was very little about her to be found. With a sigh, he reached up under his glasses and rubbed his good eye.

"We can help remove any trace of you ever existing if you want us to. Some of my people are very good at tracking this stuff down," he offered one last time.

She shook her head, "No. Let it all turn to dust and fall through the cracks. If your people start digging up paper documents to make them disappear, it stirs up dust. When you disturb dust, it causes people to sneeze and thus other people begin to take notice, making them want to investigate what's causing it. It's best to just leave everything as it is."

Michael smirked a little at the analogy and nodded, "Very well. If nothing else, we can keep ears to the ground, be passive listeners and watchers to see if anything is said or mentioned. I might see if the agent on that case is even still alive."

Red gave a shrug as if giving her permission to at least do that much. She sipped at her wine before staring down into the glass. Both of them were silent for a while, both contemplating what had just been discussed.

"So, where do you and I stand, Michael?" she asked quietly. "Are you removing me from the project or…," she asked, her voice trailing off, trying not to put voice to the hope that she'd be allowed to stay.

Michael turned in his chair to face her fully. "It was a shock to the system to find out that there was another level to you that no one, not even MacGyver knew about. It's shaken my trust in you a little bit," he said, his voice sounding disappointed, like an adult admonishing a young child.

Red continued to watch the liquid in her glass, seeing the slight ripples along the edge that showed her hands were trembling. She felt the flush of embarrassment and guilt on her cheeks but said nothing as she waited for the verdict of the consequences to her actions.

"So I will ask you once more; Is there anything in your past that we don't know about? Anything perhaps from the time you spent in Minneapolis or Seattle?" he asked quietly. "What about the person that gave you all those bruises from the photos in your FBI file? Anything else happen to you or of note while you were in the Air Force?" He rattled off these things in hopes of giving her something to jump off from.

She was still for a moment and then downed the rest of her wine. Standing, she went over to the bar and retrieved the bottle they'd opened, refilling her glass and taking the bottle over to Michael who held out his glass for a refill as well. Being the un-sophisticated person she was, she took the little bit that was left in the bottle and poured it into her glass, almost filling it. She set down the bottle next to the couch and then with less grace than she'd shown any other time she'd been around Michael, she flopped onto the cushions and curled up her feet again. Taking a drink of wine, she studied the glass again.

Michael tensed as he waited. If she was getting more wine, perhaps there was more to her history than previously thought.

She remained silent for a few more minutes, collecting her thoughts to try and answer Michael's questions. Taking another swallow of wine, she started talking, trying to find a way to answer his questions. "The time we spent in New York was the worst in my life. Richard already drank a bit too much before Sue died but afterwards it got worse. There were times I had to make sure when he'd passed out that he was rolled on his side and a bucket at the base of the couch or bed in case he threw up when he woke. I was good at fixing things to keep myself fed when Richard was passed out or off working somewhere. I traded my skills to the people in the apartment building we lived in. They usually paid in cans of soup or a stack of pre-made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Sometimes I'd get fruit. But it was enough to keep me fed. Richard never got around to officially enrolling me in school so I'd just borrow one of the other kids' school books and read until they had to take it back to class. During the day, Mrs. Ludderman, the retired math teacher two floors down, would teach me basic math. Once I'd mastered that, she moved onto algebra and then on to calculus. She was always so proud of me for how quickly I grasped the lessons. However, her family often whispered to other tenants that she was going senile and maybe had Alzheimer's. Honestly, I think she was bored and lonely."

Michael nodded absently, as if to himself. "What about the chop-shop and the bruises?" he asked, trying to get her further into things.

Red seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden and looked at her wine glass a little too closely. "When word got around the apartment building that I knew how to fix things, Richard decided to take me to the chop shop to see if I could earn him more drinking money by helping tear down cars," she said, faltering slightly. "The main guy, Rio they called him, took a fancy to me. He showed me how to tear down dashboards and get into the guts of a car with my small hands. But as time went on, he started making passes at me. I knew what he wanted."

She gave a slight shudder of disgust, taking another sip of wine before continuing. "Those of us in the apartment building lived one paycheck to the next, barely making enough to pay rent. Several of the girls that lived on the lower level paid their rent by spreading their legs. Some of them were maybe only a year or two older than me. After I'd been pawed at by several guys going to the building to meet up with one of those girls, I started dressing like a boy, cut my hair and though I tried to stay clean, I still disguised my clothes with a little well placed dirt and had a perpetual smell of motor oil about me. I was more or less left alone after that. However, Rio knew I was a girl. I guess he thought he could get away with trying to screw me because Richard was either too drunk to care or off doing errands."

Michael winced at her course language and closed his good eye, exhaling slowly. He didn't like where this was going.

She was quiet for a minute, then took a gulp of wine, not even bothering to savor it. She gave a disgusted snort. "Lost my virginity to that prick. But either fortunately or unfortunately for me, he couldn't ever keep it up no matter how hard he tried. Steroids will do that to you I guess. He'd get embarrassed, frustrated and would take it out on me with his fists. Thankfully I was usually able to dodge him most of the time. When I'd see the signs that he was wanting to make a pass at me, I'd disappear into the depths of the building. That's when I was usually off getting video of things going on elsewhere. Anyway, after that first time, I never let him get that far with me again. No one else bothered to touch me for fear Rio might take offense. He'd managed to catch me a couple of times before the FBI raided the shop so I was a bit of a mess for those mug-shots."

Running a hand down his face in frustration, Michael looked over at Red. "How did you manage to survive all of that and not become a hard, jaded person? I've seen too many people over the years go through something like that, only to be doped up on anti-depressants or on anti-psychotic medications within a few years."

Red burst out laughing at that, causing her to slap a hand over her mouth to keep it muffled. The last thing she wanted was to wake Adrian. She saw the startled look on Michael's face and it made her laugh even harder. She knew the wine was definitely getting to her but right now, she needed it to dull the edges. "Seriously, Michael?" she asked after she'd calmed down some. "You'd be surprised at what some people have gone through in their lives and they still come out on top. It's about not giving into the temptation to think of yourself as a victim. I sure as hell wasn't. Sure, those memories still haunt me to this day, but I have better ones to replace them, memories of people like MacGyver, Mr. and Mrs. Poole, Sam or Adrian and Jaque. I love to fly and I've seen things, done things and been places that have given me some of my best memories. Any time I start thinking about those dark times where I was the 'adult' and watching Richard wither away from sorrow and drink, I think back about the first time I held Adrian in my arms, welcoming him to this world, or my first kiss from Sam. Life's too short to let something like what Rio did to me take control. No one controls me, but me." She emphasized those last words by balling up her hand with her thumb stuck out and jabbing it at her sternum.

Michael's heart thudded in his chest as he listened to her talk. She was strong, stronger than he realized and it made something relax internally. She was a rare breed and had untapped strength of will and heart. He smiled a little at her. He was sure the wine was helping her open up a bit, but she seemed to have relaxed around him a bit more than usual.

"What about after you left New York?" he asked, trying to keep her focused and talking.

She shrugged, "Not much to tell. The FBI gave us some money to help pay for us to move, but we weren't in witness protection or anything. We'd just been shunted off to somewhere else. We faded into the background the best we could. We started using our real names and identities after that. Richard worked at doing odd-jobs, whenever he could find work. Again, it was close to the way it'd been in New York. I'd take care of him to make sure he'd get moving in the morning to go find work and then I'd either go to school or find things to fix for people who would be willing to trade for food. I'd also go dumpster diving and find things I could fix to sell or pawn to make ends meet. We still lived just above 'street' level but Minnesota has a different breed of people compared to New York." Stretching out one of her legs and covering it idly with a blanket, she shrugged, as if to herself.

"I guess Richard had heard that there were better jobs to be had in Seattle and we saved up enough for two bus tickets and made our way to the West Coast. Things seemed to be looking up for a while and Richard had been trying to do better with his drinking but it all fell apart just after my fifteenth birthday. I don't know what got him going but I guess he wasn't willing to stop or just couldn't anymore. So it was rinse and repeat all over again, until that last time they took him to jail," she said, shifting as if suddenly uncomfortable.

"I'd gone to visit him the day he died. When he saw me, he was frantic to make me leave, to get out of the facility, and to hide. He told me that one of the guys he used to work with in New York was also in jail and had recognized him. Richard was terrified he would recognize me too. By then I'd let my hair grow out long again and had grown a few inches and started looking like a girl, not some scruffy boy. He told me that he loved me but not to come back until he called," she said, her voice seeming to tighten. "I heard on the news that night about a man in county lockup who'd died due to mysterious circumstances and then they showed Richard's mugshot on TV."

Michael remained quiet, taking a sip of wine and letting Red collect herself.

"So I took what things were mine from the apartment, leaving no trace that I had been with him and fled. I worked my way down the coast over the next few months and figured I could find work in LA, where I could disappear amongst the crowds. I'd caught a bad cold by the time I'd reached the outer city limits of LA. I ended up breaking into MacGyver's place because his neighbors had been talking to each other about how he was gone for a few weeks. I get a feeling you already know the rest of that story." She drained her glass and stared at it, as if surprised it was now empty.

Michael gave a little huff of laughter. "Yes, I do. MacGyver and I have had a chance to talk in the past few months and I'll admit that a good chunk of the discussion was about you." He held up his hand to forestall what might have been a look of indignation. "And most of that discussion was about what he knew of your past, how he met you and how he helped find a nice couple to help raise you the last few years through high school before you went into the Air Force. He loves you in his own way, you know. I get the impression he feels you're like a daughter to him. You can tell he's very proud of you by the way he talks about you."

Red sputtered slightly, as if trying to find something to say to all of that. After a moment, she settled and gave a gusty sigh, her cheeks flushed with the wine and most likely embarrassment.

"Anything else I should know about, such as your time in the Air Force?" he asked, trying to dig out any last bits of information.

She shook her head, "Not really. I'm sure you can get access to my full military record and see my service record, where I was stationed, my promotions, medals and reprimands. Other than taking time off to have Adrian, which by then I'd been in long enough that I could take an extended leave of absence without incident. I'm sure once you learned about me, you've probably had me followed or monitored me so I really have nothing else to hide. You know about my inheritance of the cabin and the business. You know what The Firm did to me a few days before the first test flight and then how they tried to make it look like an accident in an attempt to get rid of me. You know about my stay in the hospital and my work with starting up a side business. You know about me finding Airwolf." She gave a slightly lopsided smirk at that before she shook her head again, "Nope. Got nothing else."

Michael nodded, finishing off his own glass of wine. "As far as Airwolf," he said, giving her a steady gaze. "I would be happy if you walked away from Airwolf, distanced yourself and stayed safe," he said and had to hold up a hand to forestall any chance she might grow angry. He could almost 'see' the ruffled feathers. "But, it's not in your nature and it is somewhat of a legacy. You have the skill, maybe more than even your father had. I would be hard pressed to find someone else with your skill. Besides, if you walked away, I know I'd lose Sam and thus I'd have to find someone to replace him as well. I'd be back where I started."

He smiled sadly at her, "I'm sorry I made you think that I wouldn't want you to continue with the work on this project. If it hadn't been for you, we wouldn't have The Lady back and wouldn't have the opportunity to finally have the proof to go after Zeus and several others on the Committee to get justice for everyone he's killed or attempted to kill. If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be able to think about the future of finally being out in the open with Airwolf."

Red visibly relaxed and seemed to deflate, as if all the stress she'd been holding inside bled out of her, leaving her look almost boneless. Of course the wine might be helping with that too. She gave him a slight nod. "I want to see how far this will take us. It's a chance to put my skills to the test and see how far we can push the technology." She hesitated for a moment, as if contemplating something.

"Something bothering you?" Michael asked.

She gave her head a little shake, "Not really. Just my mind trying to put pieces together. Sam has always been able to take care of himself. He goes off for days or a week at a time to do photo shoots around the world. Me, I'm capable of spending long hours working on restoration pieces but now I've got someone else to think of that can't take care of himself for long stretches of time. We're renting a house right now in Reno because I haven't found anything I'd be willing to live in the rest of my life. There's a whole new dynamic to all of the decisions I need to make and I'm not sure how I'm going to juggle all of that and take care of Adrian too."

Michael was chuckling by now, "Red, maybe Allard didn't truly explain what it means to be an exclusive client of the Guardian Angels. We'll help you take care of Adrian. We can help you find a place to live or with my connections, acquire a bit of land and arrange for the house of your choosing to be built there. We can give you information on the different educational avenues in the Reno area from public to private schools, or even home schooling if you so desire. Adrian will have a Guardian Angel to get him to and from home, make sure if he joins sports or any other after school activities, they'll take him to and from those. If you're going to be away on a mission, you can choose to have someone stay with him or he can stay with another Angel who might have a family and make it more like an outing for him. We have so many ways of dealing with things and we try to make it so that you don't feel like either of you are being watched. His Guardian Angel will be like a good friend to him and they can help out with anything you need as well. That's their job. They are there for your protection and his and to make things run as smoothly as possible. Of course, I would highly encourage you to attend anything he participates in but his Guardian Angel will make sure you're aware of his schedule and what things are most likely needing to be attended by you, if possible. Or if nothing else, just remind you he has a game or a concert or play. They are trained to blend into the background and not bring attention to themselves."

Red's mouth was hanging open as she stared at Michael during his explanation. "I," she paused for a moment trying to gather her wits. "Michael, I can't afford something like this," she said quietly.

He looked affronted for a moment, "Cheyenne, this isn't something you pay for. This is from me to you. You aren't an employee of Guardian Angels and you don't get a paycheck from us. The amount of time you've already put into working with Airwolf and helping test the simulator, plus any future work more than pays for anything we can provide for you. I don't want you worrying about things while trying to fly on missions. I want to see your business succeed and that means you might be away from time to time, flying for films or doing stunts. You can't be doing that and worrying if Adrian is going to get home from school all right and have a healthy meal."

She closed her mouth and stared down at the floor, a pensive look on her face. "I like my privacy though. I would feel uncomfortable at having someone hanging around all the time."

He shook his head, "It will take some work in the beginning to set up a rhythm but once guidelines are settled upon and needs addressed, you won't notice their presence more than just someone helping getting Adrian from one place to another, staying with him until you get home from work and if something happens, being there to help in whatever way you need it."

Red gave a tired sigh. "All right. But it still doesn't feel right to me but I'll give it a try." She gave a yawn, setting her glass on the end table. She slid further down the couch, stretching out some, one arm folded under her head to prop it up some. "I did want to talk to you Michael about drawing Zeus out. I had some ideas," she said, punctuated with another yawn.

Michael shook his head, "We'll talk about it some other time. You should get to bed," he stopped talking when he looked over at her. Her head was still propped up somewhat but her eyes were closed and her face muscles had loosened, making her look several years younger. With a quiet sigh, he got himself out of the chair and covered her up with another blanket from the back of the couch.

Getting up, he gave the coals a cursory stir to make sure they'd burn down evenly. He moved to the couch to gather up the wine glasses and empty bottle, depositing them in the sink. He took a cursory glance around to make sure all had been attended to before moving over towards Red again, looking down on her as she slept. He thought about their conversation as he watched her sleep before he headed towards the door. Taking up his jacket and pulling it on, he locked the door behind him as he stepped out onto the front porch. He was pretty sure she wouldn't even wake when the chopper she came in on, took off to take him home.

* * *

Red shifted on the couch and opened her eyes. She'd expected to have a bit of a headache from as much wine as she'd drunk the night before but she didn't seem to be suffering from any after-effects. As she sat up, things felt different and she looked around in confusion. The structure of the cabin looked like it always had. The location of the paintings and sculptures were almost the same but the rest of the place looked 'different'. Books and small knick-knacks were in different places on the shelves, plants set about the place to trail over the edge of the balcony, and the small pictures of family were placed differently on the walls and the mantle. The biggest change was that her father's cello sat next to the fireplace.

"This is how it was when I left it," said a familiar voice from the loft. She quickly turned, feeling startled as she looked upward. She watched with wide eyes as Stringfellow Hawke started descending the stairs.

Red slowly rose from the couch, her hands absently brushing at the sleeves of her sweater that had inched up as she slept. Her eyes followed him as he came off the last step. "How can you be here? Am I dreaming or," she paused a moment as her anxiety spiked. "Or am I dead?" she whispered, unable to truly find her voice.

He gave a tender smile, the lines at the corner of his eyes becoming more pronounced against his tan skin. "No, you're not dead," he offered as he got close enough for her to touch.

She could smell the wood smoke on his flannel shirt, a hint of pine and rosin. She also picked up just a faint hint of the oil and fuel used in most aircraft.

Red frowned up at him. "So, this is a dream?" she questioned.

"Yes," he stated as he made a motion at the couch. "And no."

Red turned slightly to see what he was indicating and saw herself lying on the couch, just as she had been when she fell asleep earlier in the evening. She looked back at Stringfellow, her eyes round in surprise. "How…?" she started to say, feeling like she was suddenly in way over her head.

He seemed to be amused by her reaction. "Ask Michael about my so-called 'gift' some time."

This caught her attention and she felt her emotions roiling within her as she teetered on the edge of being unsettled by what was happening to feeling exasperated at the mention of Michael's name. Trying to be logical about this 'out of body' experience, she worked to focus herself on one point in time. She sighed, rubbing her hands over her face as if that would convey her frustration. "I just don't know what to make of Michael. Part of me tells me that he means well, even though he can be a bit," she paused as she tried to find the right word.

"Overbearing? Over protective? Pushy? A pain in the ass?" String provided with a slight smirk.

"Yes," she responded, encompassing all of those words. "And the other part of me tells me not to trust him."

He reached out and gently rested his hands on her shoulders. She felt the weight of them through her sweater and it made her relax as a sense of calm crept over her. "You should," he told her. "He's changed a lot since I died. The man you've met is a lot different than the one I left behind. I always had to take everything he said with a grain of salt, but he never flat out lied to me. And I'm pretty sure he'll never lie to you, either."

"Why do you say that?" she questioned gently.

He reached out to run the fingers of one hand through her hair, smoothing it back from her face. "You're the only link he has to those of us who flew the Lady for him," he told her. Raising both hands, he cupped them on either side of her face so that she had to look up to meet his gaze. "Remember this about Michael; there is nothing he fears more than the Lady. He might joke about her being in his nightmares, but it's not. Sometimes his dreams are troubled by the memories of what happened that day at the RedStar testing facility. Turning over the Lady to him after finding it was the best thing you could have done to start the healing process. Maybe he'll finally get some peace."

As he touched her hair and cupped her face, she closed her eyes, trying to savor the feeling of something she'd never get to truly experience. After a few moments, she opened her eyes to watch him. "I've read your journals. You don't sound at all like you did in them. I never thought of you as being spiritual."

He actually chuckled at that. Resting his hands on her shoulders once more, he looked back into the same color of eyes as his own. "Being dead this long kind of changes how you feel about a lot of things," he told her.

"So, why are you here?" she asked after a few moments.

Letting his hands drop from her shoulders, he shoved them into his front jeans pockets. He turned a little to look at the coals that were slowly burning down. "I've been watching you on and off for some time. I've seen some of the things you've gone through, that you've had to fight for and I've seen the love that others have for you. You're like me in so many ways, and yet so very different. I had only Dominic, Caitlin, Michael, Lee Van and Merella in my life towards the end. Most people steered clear of me for the most part. Though I had friendship of a sort with those close to me, Dominic was the only one that truly loved me. I watch those around you and see that you have more friends than you know. MacGyver, Sam, Adrian, even Michael in his own way, all love you. You inspire others and your peers respect you. But if you keep holding people at arms-length like you are, you'll end up like me in the end."

Red yearned to have those hands returned to her shoulders, to feel their weight and strength. "It's hard," she said quietly. "I want to be closer to people but with all that's gone on in my life, it just seems easier to keep my distance, for their protection and mine."

String shook his head as he looked around. "I know it's hard. But take it from me; if I could go back and do it all over again, I'd do it differently. If I had opened up, been someone others felt comfortable around and hadn't pushed people away, I might still be alive." He shrugged, "Who knows?" He moved toward some of the pictures on the wall, taking in the details of each. "Just don't make the same mistakes I did. I'd hate to see you like that."

She followed him, looking to see what he was staring at. It was the picture of himself sitting in the back of one of the Santini Air choppers, a casual pose next to the mounted camera. Dominic was standing next to String, propping himself up with an arm against the outside of the chopper. Both looked like they had shared a good joke and were smiling at the camera.

"I'm afraid my actions of not coming forward with information about Adrian has caused Michael to second guess his faith in me," she said quietly. "I had my reasons but I fear that keeping those secrets made things uncertain between us. I'm still afraid he'll change his mind about letting me fly Airwolf."

He turned to look at her, his eyes sparkling with a touch of mischief. "We're Hawkes, you and I," he told her. "Michael made the Lady for a Hawke to fly her. I'm gone. That leaves you."

"I do want to fly her," she agreed. "I'm just not sure how to heal this rift between us."

String shook his head. "Don't worry too much about Michael. So long as you've no more secrets to hide from him, he'll forgive you. I think he's got a soft spot for you. I can tell when he's here with you."

She was silent for a few moments as she thought about what he'd said. As she tried to figure out what else to say or ask him, String spoke up.

"Red, this cabin was always my home, but to you, it should be just a refuge when you need a quiet place to reflect or heal. This is all I had to give you," he told her, motioning to the cabin and land around them. "Don't feel bound to hold onto all of it for my sake. Just know that whatever choices you decide to make, I'll always be proud of you and everything you've done."

He chuckled softly at a thought. "I think Dom would be amazed at what you've made of his business. At the time we were around, there wasn't much call for some of the more antiquated style of aircraft. But what you've done is really ingenious. If you have to make some sacrifices to make it grow more, then do it. Michael and his son will help you as much as you let him."

She seemed unable to speak, her full attention focused on the man before her. As he spoke, she tried to take in every nuance, every detail that she could, hoping she would remember it all upon waking.

He reached out a hand to place on the side of her face, a thumb stroking absently at her cheek. "You have friends who want to make you family and you've got dreams to follow. Tell Michael that I consider all debts paid." With a final stroke of his thumb, he dropped his hand and took a step back.

"What do you mean?" she asked with a touch of curiosity.

He turned away and made his way towards the door. "I need to go, Red. I'm sorry that I didn't tell Michael about you. Let him help you. He's doing this for what he feels he owes me as well as what he feels he owes you. Cherish the time you have with him, and be there for his son when Michael's finally ready to join those of us that went before him."

Confused, Red tried to follow him, moving around the couch just as he reached the door. "Don't go," she called after him, breaking into a short run as he moved out the door. She was only a few steps behind him, reaching it moments later, but he was gone.

"String?" she called aloud just before she felt a cool hand on the side of her real neck and face, causing her to inhale sharply as she jerked awake, feeling disoriented.

When her eyes managed to focus on the person kneeling next to her on the couch, she made out the familiar features of Sam in the half dark of the pre-dawn light.

* * *

June 4th, 2012

5:43am

Sam had convinced Lex to show up early to the Stars and Stripes hanger so he could be flown out and dropped off at the cabin. He knew Michael had been there to greet her the night before and had informed Sam that he was only going to be there until they'd had a chance to talk. Afterwards he would fly out in the chopper that brought her and Adrian home.

As Lex banked the chopper banked the edge of the lake, he saw that the Guardian Angel's chopper was gone, leaving Red and Adrian alone. He absently wondered how long they'd talked into the night and what exactly had been discussed. He jumped out of the chopper as soon as Lex touched down on the landing pad. He pulled his duffle and the cooler full of groceries out of the back, giving Lex a nod that he was clear and set off for the cabin. He heard the Jet Ranger's engines cycle higher as Lex lifted off and within moments, the sound of the whirling blades faded into the distance.

Moving towards the front door, he set the cooler outside on the porch. Shifting his duffle to his other shoulder, he unlocked the door and gently opened it. With as light of a sleeper as Red was, he expected her to be up and moving from the sounds of the chopper. The cabin was cool, the evening fire having died down and the coals turned to little more than ash. He left the door open as he set his duffle bag down quietly since he hadn't heard anyone moving around yet. Going back out to the porch, he retrieved the cooler and brought it inside. He gave the door a nudge with his foot and let it close, still expecting to see Red at any moment.

The cabin remained silent as he made his way into the kitchen to put the cooler against the fridge. He figured that there wouldn't be much in the way of perishables up here so he'd brought eggs, milk, butter, some fruit and some other miscellaneous items he knew they'd be out of. As he stood up, he spotted the neck of a wine bottle sticking out of the sink. He approached and saw that two glasses accompanied it. It was a brand he didn't recognize from their rack so he was pretty sure that Michael had brought it with him.

Moving back around the kitchen counter, he went to make his way towards the stairs to the loft when he heard a soft noise from the sitting area near the fireplace. Moving cautiously, he made his way towards the couch and was finally at an angle to see that Red was curled up on it, a blanket laying half way off and pooling on the floor in front of the couch. He could tell she was dreaming by the way her hands and face twitched.

As he reached to touch her, she called out, "Don't go!" before shifting to lay face up, her legs stretching out. Sam withdrew his hand somewhat, not sure if he should wake her just yet. As he knelt down next to the couch, he saw a light sheen of sweat on her forehead and watched as she scrunched up her face as if confused before calling out again, "String?"

He stared at her for a moment, wondering why she'd called out to her biological father. Reaching forward, he laid his hand on the side of her face. He knew his hands were cold and hoped it would be enough to wake her.

She jerked with a grunt, taking a sharp inhale of breath. Her eyes flew open, unfocused and almost frantic. Within the span of several heartbeats, he saw them begin to focus as the fight or flight response left her. He kept his hand on her neck and felt her pulse as it slowed. Finally, her eyes shifted and she looked up at him through the pre-dawn shadows, recognition seeping into her consciousness. He took a moment to think about how he truly loved the colors of her eyes. He loved how they seemed to lighten or darken according to her mood.

"Sam?" she asked, sounding unsure as if she may have still been dreaming.

"Good morning," he said quietly, his thumb reaching up to stroke the edge of her jaw. "You were dreaming pretty heavily. You doing ok?" He couldn't imagine the stress she'd been under since she found out about the bombing. He absently wondered how many bad nights she'd had and knew she'd spent every night Adrian had been in the hospital, sleeping in his hospital room, most likely sleeping upright in a chair.

It took her a moment to truly comprehend everything and when it finally all fell into place, she tried to launch herself from the couch and Sam had a split-second to quickly adjust his stance as she grabbed ahold of him, her arms wrapping around him as she buried her face against his neck.

His arms encircled her automatically and he felt her trembling. "Please don't leave me Sam. I'm sorry," she whispered against him, the sound of shame, fear and sorrow coloring the tone of her words. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you."

Even if he could have stayed upset with her, those words made him feel as if his heart were breaking. He held to her as memories flashed back to the fight they'd had when they realized they had feelings for each other and he'd dumped her in the lake, twice before storming off. He hugged her a little closer, burying his face against the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent. His next thought was the next time he'd heard about her was when Mac got a call about her jet crashing. He didn't think he could ever go through something like that again. They had parted with words of anger and after the call, he had been terrified he'd never see her again. He should have learned his lesson the first time and left things unsaid between them when news of the bombing came, exposing her one big, closely guarded secret.

"Shhh," he whispered back, "It's ok." One hand came up to stroke her hair, then run down her back to rub small circles there, hoping that his touch was comforting to her as much as it was to him. "I'm sorry for getting angry. You had every right to do what you did. I would have done the same in your shoes."

He felt her arms squeeze him just a little tighter. "I love you Sam," she whispered quietly against his skin, her warm breath tickling the fine hairs on his neck. "I've missed you," she said as she pulled away enough to look into his eyes.

Sam blushed a little, and smiled shyly. "I love you too Cheyenne. I never realized how much I missed you being around until you weren't there." He leaned forward and softly kissed her lips, trying to make sure she understood how true his words were.

She returned the kiss, but deepened it as her hands came up to run through his hair, holding him close. She gave a little noise of need as she clung to him as if he was the only thing keeping her from drowning.

He became lost in the rush of emotions that he felt as she hungrily kissed him, his body responding with the need to be close to her, to be with her, skin to skin. He was about to suggest he take her upstairs when she seemed to freeze, breaking the kiss hesitantly. When he opened his eyes, he saw her eyes were open just before she rested her forehead against his chin, her cheeks flushed. He was confused as to why she stopped until he heard her give a soft sigh before speaking.

"We're being watched," she whispered in a low voice as she raised her head.

Sam saw her eyes flick to look over his shoulder and he slowly turned, spotting the young boy that looked only half awake as he stood in the entrance to the hallway. He was rubbing at his eyes before yawning. He heard Red give a soft little chuff of laughter and embarrassment as she pulled away from him and motioned to Adrian.

"You're up early Adrian," she said as he shuffled over towards them, still looking droopy eyed.

"Sorry ma'ma. I had a bad dream," he said, his English being a bit more accented due to his lack of focus.

Sam watched as she gathered him to her and he could immediately see the resemblance with them being so close together. She sat a bit further back on the couch and guided him to sit next to her. He watched as she stroked his hair and kissed his forehead.

"I'm sorry you had a bad dream. Look who showed up this morning, and hopefully with something to fix for breakfast." She gave the young boy a little nudge, "This is Sam." She looked up towards Sam, a quiet smile on her lips, "Sam, this is Adrian, my son."

Sam didn't miss the hint of pride in her voice. He looked Adrian over and saw the bandages that still adorned his legs and arms. He noticed the healing wound on his head and bruising in certain places where his skin was exposed. Giving the boy a gentle smile, he nodded. "It's good to finally meet you Adrian." He held out his hand then to him.

Adrian seemed a little more alert when introduced to Sam and looked between his mother and the man still kneeling on the floor in front of the couch. Reaching forward, he took the offered hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you too Sam. Ma'ma always talks about you and MacGyver."

Red could sense Sam flushing at that news and he chuckled, "Hopefully what she told you were all good things."

The young boy nodded and smiled sleepily. He looked up at Red and she looked back down at him, still smiling. "Ma'ma. Guess what?" he asked, sounding a little excited.

She looked thoughtful, almost playfully, "I couldn't even begin to guess what," she teased lightly.

He shuffled around until he was kneeling next to her, just tall enough for his mouth to be level with her ear. He leaned in to whisper as he darted a look towards Sam. She felt his breath on her face as he spoke in a hushed, revered tone. "My wish came true."

-TBC


End file.
